Harry Potter Does the Way Back : Book One
by Another Reader
Summary: After years of resistance, Harry realizes he can not win. A desperate gamble is made, and his memories are sent back in time. But will things be as easy as he thinks, or will chaos cause events to tumble out of control? And what of the Phoenix's Ashes? (Book Two in the works.)
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1 :** _ **In Which We Don't Start the Story at the Beginning (Or do we?)**_

Harry Potter woke up in a cupboard in the house he had grown up in. At least that's what Harry desperately hoped, seeing as it was dark, and he kept bumping into walls. The other possibility was that the ritual had failed, and either he was dead, or he was being kept prisoner by Voldemort before his eventual torture and execution. Seeing as he had actually been trying to end up in the cupboard, he was betting on that.

Ah, there was the door handle. Had his keepers locked the door this time? Harry opened the door carefully and adjusted to the light. Yes, unless the afterlife was very perverse, the ritual had worked- he had come back in time. Harry grinned, and barely withheld the urge to shout in triumph.

He shook his head in confusion. ' _I need to be circumspect. Why do my thoughts feel like they are fighting through syrup?_ ' Harry pondered. His thoughts were disjointed and thinking was fuzzy, and he was moving quite oddly. ' _Shite, did the ritual go wrong? I'm here, but nothing feels right! Where's a ruddy calendar?_ '

The boy stumbled into the kitchen occasionally bumping into a wall. Thankfully, between his light weight, and the Dursley's tendency to both snore and sleep heavily, he managed it without disaster.

Finding the calendar where it was always pinned, Harry relaxed. He was nine years old, and it was July seventh, seven being such a magically significant number. It was only twenty-some days until his tenth birthday. He looked at the clock- 7:09 am. He nodded, it had probably taken two minutes to get out to the kitchen. Yes, they had missed the target by a year, but the whole thing was pretty miraculous considering the shoestring operation the ritual had been anyway. Still, his body felt wrong.

"Relax Harry, you can still remember everything that happens," he said to himself. His voice surprised him. Obviously it would be different than it had been, but actually hearing it brought it all home. He really was nine again. Harry's eyes widened and he stuck a hand down his pants. "Well of course it would… One more casualty of the war," The boy chuckled mirthlessly.

He wandered over to the sink and got a glass of water while he thought. There were plans to change things this time, by necessity. He wouldn't be here when the Dursleys woke up for their late Sunday brunch. In fact, the Dursley residence would not be here for a late Sunday brunch. Couldn't have the headmaster sticking him back here every summer. Things to do, people to see. A few knives to slip into a few backs, metaphorically and literally, assuming he could control this stupid, childish body.

Yes, he doubted it would take Petunia as long as the end of the week before she and Dudley were on a cruise for the rest of their lives, paid for by a combination of fire insurance, and the life insurance her husband didn't know she had on him. She wasn't quite as stupid as she appeared. Harry's dear uncle wouldn't be killed by a heart attack as Petunia supposed, but he wouldn't be waking up when the fire alarm went off shortly either.

That was ultimately unimportant in the great scheme of things, however. No plan survives contact with the enemy, but they had made contingencies for their contingencies. And Harry had spent months memorizing it all.

Harry looked at the digital clock over the oven. "This uneasiness I feel is probably just an effect of the time traveling, it'll be over soon, right?" he asked it. The clock didn't answer, which, all things considered, Harry was glad for. "I'll start the plans and everything will be fine for the next few years." Harry went over the first few plans again mentally. "I hope this mental fog lifts soon, I can remember the plans, but I can't understand why they work. Ugh, I need to get to sleep. But not here. Never here again."

Around 7:30 AM, a bland, nondescript man walked out of number 4 Privet Drive, and started walking towards the nearest bus stop, eating a large sandwich, and wearing a backpack.

Two hours later, the last of the blaze was finally put out by the fire department, and Arabella Figg was desperately trying to reach Dumbledore, who had chosen a most inconvenient time to be out.

••••••••••

Dumbledore woke with a start.

It took but a moment for his mind to sort itself out, and he realized with dismay that many of his assorted 'desk toys' were activated. Something of _import_ had just happened.

He rushed out of his private quarters and into his office. It was worse than he had thought; nearly all of the various gizmos were alarmed, he quickly switched to trying to find ones that weren't tripped.

He gave up and started a mental catalog, disabling each device as he checked it off. Assuming whatever calamity had just occurred allowed for it, his next project would be making a device that monitored, listed, and recorded the state of the other ones. He had never expected so many to go off at once.

Fifteen minutes later, he was mostly through, and getting a better picture. Hogwarts seemed to be fine. None of the old Phoenix members had called in an alarm… The Ministry hadn't fallen. The wards around young Harry were still up. It seemed that most of the specially tuned alarms were fine, but all of the older, more general alarms that the headmasters had accumulated over the centuries were convinced that the world was near its end. Dumbledore shook his head, unsure what could have caused all of this…

Another gizmo shot a puff of green smoke into the room, and the old man spun round to his fireplace. A moment later Amelia Bones' face appeared. "Ah, I should have known you'd be aware Albus. You're needed. The IWC just ordered an emergency meeting to assemble in Brussels as soon as possible."

Dumbledore's face grew grave. "What on Earth has happened, Amelia? I knew something was afoot, but an IWC meeting called in under an hour?"

Amelia snorted. "If anyone knew what had happened, I doubt there would be a rush. I've heard that magic detectors have been triggered worldwide, and that many of the monitored prophets fainted simultaneously."

Dumbledore swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. "Oh _very_ dear... Keep the floo open, I'll be over momentarily."

Amelia nodded, and her head disappeared.

Dumbledore closed his eyes and mumbled a Sumerian prayer he had once come across. He would gladly face the next great adventure when it came, but he had led a longer, more full life than most. He hoped this was not as bad as he feared.

Then he stepped into the fire.

It would be quite some time before he came back to find that Mrs. Figg had news, and that the wards around number 4 Privet were destroyed along with the house.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 :** _ **In Which a Great Deal of Dialog (and Exposition) Occurs.**_

≈ 6 months later - Miami Florida, USA

Harry lay on his hotel bed and yawned. He watched the ceiling fan spin around, and decided it would do as the target of his complaint. "Did you know that the past is kind of boring if you know that things like the internet are going to exist in a decade? The Game Boy is cutting edge entertainment, and I don't even like Tetris that much."

The fan continued to spin. The boy frowned at its indifference, then pulled a three ring binder out of his backpack, going down the list inside. So many things to accomplish before the other side had any clue the war was back on. So many boxes to tick before victory.

And he could do almost nothing.

It had taken about a month for Harry to figure out. Sending memories back over two decades was all well and good, but they hadn't thought to make sure the memories would go in properly.

Harry groaned. After all of that time and effort, they had just assumed that it would work. Animagi stuffed their thought patterns into tiny brains all the time, right? Admittedly, Rita didn't have a whole lot to start with, but even her most critical opponent would allow that she had more brains than her beetle form.

But no. The ritual had shunted all of the memories back, and hadn't bothered making sure that young Harry's brain had been sufficiently plasticized. Sure, the American mind healers said he would grow into it, but that could take a decade. He might not be entirely back to normal until the second the ritual had been completed!

Harry groaned again, and fluffed his pillow aggressively. On top of everything else, his body was too young to properly enjoy the adult pay per view options available in the hotel. About the only good thing he could say was that American food was so much better, if one avoided the things obviously made of plastic. Whoever had devised the 'food' called a Kraft 'cheese single' deserved time in Azkaban. He suddenly shuddered at the thought of 'cheese whizz', a fitting name, seeing as it probably came from the bull rather than the cow.

Also, the weather was pretty decent, at least in Miami, Harry grudgingly admitted. Again, he lamented that not only did he have to sit around being unproductive, but he couldn't even enjoy the beach bars or the beach babes.

"Why couldn't I have just sent my bloody body back? No, we have to be clever, and send back my mind, no one would suspect _that..._ 'Cause it's so _stupid_." he complained to the fan some more.

The bedside radio-clock-alarm suddenly started playing the Kill Bill siren effect that Harry had magicked up as a special alarm. Harry chuckled at the anachronism, letting it rouse him from his melancholy.

"He's here then. Should I run? No, I'm not going to get anything further done like this. I simply can't win on my own. It's not like he's an enemy."

Harry walked over to the chair in the corner of the room, took off his shoes and socks, and slipped a softball-sized rock with a metallic sheen into one of the briefly vacated socks.

He didn't have to wait long. He could feel a few spells go through the room. Seemed like Dumbledore wanted to make sure he was alone. Harry snorted in wry amusement, he supposed it would seem more likely that someone had kidnapped him, given the evidence.

The doorknob turned, and Dumbledore walked in behind his wand, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and Bermuda shorts. Harry blinked. It was remarkably good camouflage for a wizard. He had seen tourists at the beach in almost identical outfits.

Dumbledore swept the room before seeming to calm slightly, and refocused on the boy. "Hello Harry. I imagine you must be wondering who I am, and why I've barged into your room."

Harry resisted the urge to play any one of hundreds of pranks. The temptation to pretend to be clueless, or be possessed by Riddle, or be the reincarnation of Merlin was strong, and he knew that if Sirius found out, he would be most disappointed.

But there would be time for gaiety later, perhaps. Not now.

"No, you're rather famous Albus. It's not every wizard who can claim that many titles when signing their name. And one can't stand on manners when dealing with a possible hostage situation, can one?"

' _I hope that slight snark will do, Sirius._ '

Albus narrowed his eyes in suspicion, not taken aback at all.

"I'm not possessed by Riddle either, if that's what's running through your head."

Albus froze, and Harry watched, practically in slow motion, the tendons in the old man's aged hand, as he instinctively cast a stunner with no wand movement other than aiming needed. Harry grinned, and raised the sock into the path of the spell as he stomped his right foot onto the floor, where a small rune was hiding under the carpet.

Dumbledore was moving even as the first stunner left his wand, dodging behind the bed and casting at it even as the stunner hit the lumpy sock and was absorbed.

His rhythm was thrown off though, when the spell he intended to transfigure the bed into a beast produced nothing more than sparks off the end of his wand and a fizzing sound.

Dumbledore looked up at Harry and the sock, now sporting a singed, knut-sized hole in it, for a fraction of a second before dropping to the floor, the bed breaking the line of sight between the two.

Harry waited for a moment before calling over, "Your portkeys and such won't work either right now. Don't try to apparate, you won't splinch, but you'll puke up all over the room most likely. Please sit down, we have a lot to talk about. The world can't afford us to be enemies right now."

After a few seconds, Dumbledore rose from behind the bed.

Harry smiled and waved. "I'd have let you conjure yourself a seat, but now you'll have to make do with sitting on the bed. Nothing more than the most passive of magics can happen within the room at the moment."

Dumbledore looked at the corners of the room, where warding stones were now quite visible, having nullified the magic used to hide them. "You've been expecting me then?"

Harry nodded. "Although you were quicker than I expected. On the other hand, I've been less and less sneaky the last few months. Unfortunately, I need your help."

This admission seemed to startle the old man finally. "Before we go any farther, could you introduce yourself?"

"You already greeted me Albus; Harry James Potter, at your service. Your tracing magics haven't led you astray."

The old wizard frowned. "You seem mature enough to understand why I have more than a little doubt…"

"Which is in itself, part of the problem, yes," Harry grinned. "Well, when I say I'm Harry James Potter, it's most definitely true, it's just not the whole truth…"

He sighed and shook his head, "As fun as it can be sending probing questions back and forth and trading half truths with you, let's stop beating around the bush. I'm prophesied to beat Riddle. In a prior timeline," he paused a moment for the words to sink in, "you coddled me and then died. I had no skills with which to beat him. Over a decade of resistance guerilla-style warfare later, we faced facts– neither he nor I could make a clear and decisive victory. The resistance sent my memories back in time so that I could stop the second war before it ever started."

Dumbledore had his eyes closed, and for a moment Harry worried he had cut off all magic, as the man seemed to age visibly. "I'm truly sorry Harry. I've made many mistakes in my life, and a great deal of them seem to make trouble for you. I suppose that didn't change in the future."

Harry shrugged. "I can't say I'm thrilled with all of your decisions. I was angry for a long time. I still am to a certain degree. I know you're not as omnipotent as your reputation makes you out to be, but some of your decisions were, and would-will- have-been, _so stupid_. And you're the best of the lot! British wizards in general don't seem to have any common sense at times."

Albus took a deep breath, and the age sloughed off of him again, as he sat on the bed. "Enough of my self pity. From what you said, it sounds like you want support in defeating Voldemort. I'm certainly happy to oblige. When did your memories come back from?"

Harry sighed. "I was 33, it was February of 2014. And yes, sadly I'll need your help to defeat Riddle. I had hoped to do it all myself, but the ritual didn't work exactly as planned."

"Greater Magics seldom do, Harry."

Harry shrugged, "Didn't have any alternatives, the way we saw it. Nor any experts on hand to warn us away."

Albus nodded. "Do you know what went awry?"

"Ooh, a chance to use the Socratic method on Albus Dumbledore, how could I pass this up? Alright, excluding time-turners, why isn't time travel possible?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Everyone travels forward in time constantly, but I know what you're getting at. Sending objects back in time requires enormous energy since they already exist there. It takes so much magical energy that even the smallest of objects can't be sent back. Even if you tried sending, say, a grape back to before it was grown, the 'stuff' of which the grape was made of exists as soil and water and so on. Time-turners break most of the rules, but were 'created,' if one can say that, in a closed temporal loop. It is said that the very first Unspeakables were founded when the first time-turner appeared _ex-nihilo:_ a man came back and handed it to himself."

Harry blinked. "Wow. I'd tease Hermione about this, but that entire timeline was erased… Moving on, what if you sent really, really, _really_ tiny bits of matter back in time?"

Dumbledore looked intrigued. "Well, the smaller the object, the less magical energy it would take. I suppose that if you got small enough bits of… matter, you could, in theory, send one back with an enormous amount of magical energy."

"You're fairly open minded, do you know anything about muggle atomics?"

Albus grunted. "Had to read some briefings on it occasionally in the ICW. These atomic 'ICBM' projectiles could be a problem, apparently. We had a plan to transfigure them into something harmless mid flight if anyone was stupid enough to launch any. You didn't use one to power the spell did you?"

"Um, no sir," Harry blinked. "That's… Wow, I'm glad to hear that the ICW is actually so competent."

Dumbledore's eyebrows asked the question for him.

Harry's hands wandered around as he tried to find the words. "Let's just say I'm intimately aware of the incompetence rampant in the Fudge administration, and things never got much better after he was tossed out."

Dumbledore winced. "Fudge... is a tolerable peace-time minister at best. I can't blame you if that was your introduction to politics."

Harry snorted. "Quite. Anyway, so we didn't send back matter. Well, electrons have some mass, but it's so little we were able to get enough magical power to send them back in time into my young head. And since I was sending the electrons in my own head, back in time to my old head, it just barely worked."

"And, incidentally, set off practically every magical disaster detecting device in the world, as well as knock most of the prophets out cold." Dumbledore's admonishment was somewhat undermined by the clearly visible amusement on his face.

"... Really? Um, whoopsy? Look, we knew it wasn't without risks… There was a chance we'd release enough energy to destroy England, and honestly some of us were hoping for it by that point."

"You went through with a plan that could have killed tens of millions?" Dumbledore asked, agog.

"No, I said the ritual could have destroyed England. Several million would die, but so would Riddle's army of darkness, and across the channel there would be some bad radiation burns. But as long as Tommy boy had croaked, it was decided to be worthwhile. At worst, the statute of secrecy would have fallen worldwide, but it had fallen in the British Isles already, and Voldemort was planning to go public to the muggles the moment he killed me anyway."

"There were that few souls left in England?"

"Give or take. We were a resistance movement operating out of caves and abandoned basements. Everyone else were muggles caught in the crossfire, or the enemy. It's not like we could do a census."

The headmaster made a small jerk as he imagined this future that would have been.

Harry made a pained face. "Sorry, dark humor was the only humor left for us. I've known this for a long time and haven't been able to talk to anyone about anything. Like I said, the ritual was not perfect. I've gone a bit... wonky."

"Wonky?"

"... Well, what do you know about child psychology?"

"Formally? Not much, but I have been a professor for quite some time."

"Then you know that children are not little adults. Children don't think the way adults do. Their brains are structurally different. I understand that animagi can become beastial if they don't properly prepare for the transition. I haven't studied it in depth, but I now have a theory that it has to do with the inherent differences between human and non-human brains."

"Oh. Oh my."

"Quite. And so my 33 year old mind got sent back into my nine year old brain, and we were all so busy working out the hows of the magic, no one thought of the consequences. And thus I'm unable to pull off a one man war. I've gone a bit peculiar, and I've got a bit of what will be known as attention deficit disorder."

"... I'm sorry it came to this. I failed you, and the world, completely."

"You're being a little self centered I think; sure you made some mistakes, but the fate of the world rests on no man's shoulders. Well, possibly mine, but that's prophecy for you; I'm fate's bitch."

The headmaster looked up. "Perhaps so. Hearing absolution from your allies doesn't heal the ache though, does it?"

Harry blinked, then looked down. "No. It doesn't."

Dumbledore looked around the room. "I think your anti-magic ward has come down. Could I convince you to finish this conversation back at Hogwarts?"

Harry shrugged. "There's nothing else I can do on my own right now anyway. As long as you respect the fact that I'm... kind of an adult, and don't try to restrict my freedom, I fully expect to work quite closely with you. I have ongoing medical appointments with some local mind healers and muggle neurologists, so I won't be spending too much time in the UK until I get my school letter."

Dumbledore blinked.

Harry grinned. "I may be in my 30's, but I can't let anyone know without the other side hearing, can I? And you'd be amazed at how many enemies try to kill me at Hogwarts. I might as well keep the homeground advantage."

The professor groaned. "I'm going to need a drink."

Harry shrugged. "Fair enough. No point in checking out, I'll be back. Let's go."

••••••••••

They had made it back to the Headmaster's office uneventfully, other than Harry's nausea that still plagued him when using port keys or the floo.

Harry scritched Fawkes' neck in that one spot he liked, the phoenix still in full glory, not needing to combust for a couple years yet, as Albus slipped behind his desk, and reached into a drawer. His hand emerged with a half-full bottle of Ogden's Finest Firewhiskey and a tumbler with one ice cube.

"Huh. Didn't know it could do that," Harry remarked.

"If there wasn't the occasional perk to this job, no one would put up with it," Albus explained.

Harry chuckled. "Nobby Nobbs!"

"Yessir?" A particularly ugly house elf appeared.

"Bottle of butterbeer, please."

"Yessir."

Dumbledore watched with curiosity as the elf disappeared, then came and went again, leaving only the requested drink behind.

"I'm pretty certain students shouldn't be able to do that, Harry."

Harry shrugged, "I think that the Resistance ended up learning the most important rule of magic. I'm guessing it may even be a fundamental rule of the Old Knowledge… At the end of the day, magic all comes down to willpower and intent, doesn't it?"

Albus grinned. "Only for the more powerful witches and wizards. There is a reason we spend so long teaching students wand movements. And even those who can simply think magic into happening generally find it much less efficient than using a wand. I spent a few years in my 40's without bothering with a wand or stave, but it's generally impractical."

Harry took a long pull from his bottle. "That makes sense. I've been able to do magic since I came back, but it felt kind of... off. Uncomfortable. Before I came back I only bothered to do wandless magic in battle. I figured the feeling was just because of my age, or another side effect of the ritual."

"Unlikely. Extended use of magic without any foci places that strain on your body. It isn't exceedingly dangerous, but you'll probably be quite happy to get your wand by the time you're eleven. Just don't overdo it- just like physical exercise, your body will let you know if you need to stop."

"Mmh. Speaking of wands, mine was brothers with Riddle's wand."

"Really now? Huh. I suppose that's not too surprising, given…"

"That he nearly made me into a horcrux? I suppose. Thank goodness it didn't work."

Dumbledore looked at Harry. "Wait, he _didn't_ make you into a horcrux?"

Harry's mouth dropped open. "Wh- Of course not, why on Earth did you think he had?"

"Because he's not dead yet?"

Harry blinked. "Oh, you must not have figured that out yet. He has multiple horcruxes."

Albus looked at his tumbler before closing his eyes and draining it.

Harry decided to take that as a sign to continue. "We weren't quite sure of the number. Probably six, since seven is so arithmanticaly significant. We know he had been planning on using my murder to make one, probably the seventh. We destroyed a few by accident. My scar is a link that forged the two of us together due to his preparing my head as a horcrux. When he is revived we will share glimpses of one another when one of us is particularly emotional. Oh, he did manage to share with me his parseltongue ability."

"I suppose you have basilisk, nundu, and phoenix animagus forms as well?"

Harry snorted. "Please. If I could phoenix flash, the war would have been over in a day. There aren't wards that can block a phoenix, short of a complete magic nullification like the hotel. Which would have been suicidal for them. Fawkes is simply too noble to flash bombs inside enemy HQ, unfortunately. I've asked. It's possible I have a form, I haven't had the time to properly look into it."

Albus grunted, and refilled his tumbler. "What have you been up to since coming back?"

"Ugh, where to start. Being a kid sucks," Harry began. "We had so many plans for me to start fixing things the moment I got back, but I can't think with this brain. Occlumency helps, but it doesn't solve the problem. As I mentioned, I've actually spent a fair deal of time with American mind healers and muggle neurologists." Harry snorted and waved an arm, "I've probably pushed forward the field a decade or some such rot. I'm afraid I won't be much help for some years yet Albus. All I can do is tell you what happened and what our plans were. The actual thinking and doing will be up to you."

"That is still an unprecedented advantage over the enemy, Harry."

"Assuming the prophecy will let others act on it. Do I have to personally destroy each horcrux? Can I simply do the finishing blow against him? My fear now is that I won't be able to resolve this until I'm 17 or 18 again, and the second war goes into full swing."

"It sounds bad."

"It was. Bad enough to come back and do all this shite over again. To say goodbye to all my friends… Those that were left."

They sat in silence for a short time, broken only by quiet sips.

"Can you imagine how much it sucks to be a kid when you know what you're missing?" Harry segwayed abruptly. "All the things you can do as an adult you can't do as a kid. Can't swear in public, can't drink, bloody hell, do you know what it's like not to be able to masturbate, let alone screw?"

"Speaking as a man who hit triple digits before you were born; yes, yes I do."

"Okay, but at least you probably got some use out of yours before it failed, I was a late bloomer with a complicated life, I got maybe fifteen years, most of which were way too busy to have time to satisfy myself. And now, even if I had a chance to drink, I can't stand the taste unless it's diluted to hell. I can't stand coffee, and I have to add a disgusting amount of sugar to my tea."

"I suppose you needed to get that off your chest."

"Yes."

"... What exactly happened the day you came back?"

Harry groaned. "That. Right. I suppose it would have been too much to ask that you forgot about it. So, my mind arrived in my body, right where it had been, on my futon, in the closet, under the stairs. I was disorientated, and it took me over a month to figure out how badly I was messed up from the ritual. So I took care of step one of the grand plan, and burnt down their house."

Dumbledore looked aghast, " _Why?_ "

"Strategic reasons. Of course, in hindsight, it wasn't necessarily the smartest of decisions, seeing as I wasn't able to destroy his support base early, but like I said, I was really disorientated, and honestly I had been looking forward to doing it for several months before coming back."

"You must have known your house had blood wards, what strategic value was there in destroying it?"

"The blood wards mostly gave the illusion of safety. Sure, they protected me from magic while in the house, but it didn't protect me if I took a few steps outside it. Nor from muggles 'coerced' into dragging me out of it, or a gun, or a bomb. The illusion of safety is exceedingly dangerous."

"... I'm sorry to have to tell you that your uncle didn't wake up in time to get out."

Harry nodded. "Mhm. How are Petunia and Dudley? I imagine by now they're on the French Riviera or somewhere flashy like that. The ridiculous pile of life insurance she had on him did go through, right?"

"Harry, your uncle died. You're not upset?"

"Albus, my uncle _-in-law_ was a horrible bigoted blight on humanity who would have happily signed up to be a Death Eater if he was a wizard. He ran for the local council under the British National Party once, and I once heard him call UKIP 'a bunch of soft pussies' shortly after they formed. He was borderline abusive towards me, and if he hadn't had a double damocles sword of both you and the muggle cops hanging over him, he would have happily forced a bottle of paracetamol down my toddler throat and buried me in the backyard.

"I'm not upset that he died, I purposefully murdered him in order to get my blood relatives enough money that they would move out of the reach of my enemies."

Dumbledore took his glasses off and set them on the desk before rubbing his face. He was reliant on the boy, but could they work together with such opposing philosophies?

Harry continued, "We can't let the second war start up again, Albus. If things had gone to plan, I'd have already killed every confirmed death eater by now. That won't work anymore, by the time I'm sane enough to do operations again, I'll be back on the radar. Half of all our plans are basically useless."

Albus mind whirred as he closed his eyes and leant back in his chair. "So then, what are your plans moving forward?"

"Until school starts, I'm going to be focusing on getting my brain fixed. Can you get out your pensieve? We developed a spell to copy and organize my memories in case something went really wrong. It's a tough and complicated process, and there's a lot to go over, so I ought to get started on it."

Albus nodded and cast a summoning spell into his room. "Your group sounds remarkably competent for being fugitive rebels."

"We had good people. And while laziness is the mother of invention, and profit the father, necessity is the aunty; or something like that. ]Earth as we knew it depended on certain spells, and we damn well made them."

The device flew in and landed on the desk. It still had some memories in it, and the old wizard whisked the fluid with his wand, making the ethereal material ball up on the point like cotton candy. He withdrew the wand and started to stuff the wad of memories into a prepared flask, which he corked once he finished. He motioned to it for Harry.

The boy nodded, and conjured a large piece of white construction paper that covered most of the office floor, as well as a small knife and a quill. Taking Albus's ink well, he nicked his arm with the knife, and bled several drops into the ink. He covered the small wound with his hand a moment, then turned his attention to the quill.

Sticking it into the bloody ink, he stirred it a bit, and mumbled a few words before starting to draw runes in a large circle. Albus noticed he didn't need to re-ink his quill, as it was apparently drawing from the well.

The Headmaster watched with some interest, it was a fairly standard arrangement so far, though few knew how to make runic circles anymore. It took skill to do correctly, and they were only needed for very complicated magic. The only use the common wizard or witch would see one for is if they were being treated for severe injuries at St. Mungo's. And there the runic circles were permanent, cast in gold sunk into the floor. That made them less flexible, but more powerful.

"It's good to see you kept up your studies, that's an art few ever learn."

Harry paused in his work, and stared at the older man. "Shhhhh; it's taking all the concentration this feeble kid brain has to do this without distractions."

Albus raised an eyebrow, but kept quiet as Harry returned to his task. 'Ah, here's the custom bits. Memory components, Occlumency stabilizers, yes, I see where it's going now. How intriguing,' he thought.

The Boy-With-Hyphens continued drawing and writing, crawling across the floor to reach various parts. Albus was happy to realize the lad had used an ink-fixing spell, which prevented smudging. He really would have to reintroduce that cantrip to the curriculum; Albus had seen some of the essays turned in, and they were often a mess.

Harry finished his design, a cross between a Celtic knot and a pentagram, with the standard magical runes taught at Hogwarts plus a few more esoteric ones woven throughout. A silent levitation spell later, and the pensieve was placed on a locus on the inner ring of the circle.

"I know this is rude, but may I borrow your wand? I'll need it for this bit."

"I don't mind the breach of etiquette, but I'm not sure it will be a good match."

"Worst that can happen is it doesn't like me, and I give it back. It was lost after you died, and I'm kind of curious about my relationship with Death, anyway."

Albus stared at the boy for several seconds before shrugging, and tossing the legendary wand over.

Harry grabbed it, and let a deep breath out through his nose, eyes closed. "Wow. That's... quite a buzz. Do you have to deal with that constantly?"

Albus stroked his beard. "It wears off eventually. Interesting that you feel it so acutely."

"Albus, I'm well aware that there are worse things than death, and the Resistance unanimously voted to carry out the ritual, knowing that it would effectively erase that time line. I don't think there was a single member that wouldn't have been at least slightly attuned to it."

Harry's body shivered for a moment as he stared at the wand. "I think it's confused, it can sort of sense the Cloak all over me, but I've obviously never had it in this timeline. Plus, you just handed it to me after I asked. I wonder if that's ever happened in its entire history. Fascinating."

"Indeed," Albus agreed.

Harry shook his head, and slapped his cheeks a few times. "Enough of that. I borrowed this for a reason."

Harry sat cross-legged in the center and focused. After a minute or so had passed, the boy raised the Wand to his temple and slowly extracted a shimmering silver blue thread. He drew the Wand away slowly, lengthening the thread inch by inch. He took his other hand and used a finger to hook the filament on, then started pulling the Wand back toward his head.

The memory was several feet long by the time the other end popped out of his temple, and Harry carefully laid the thread into the basin of the pensieve. As it touched the device, the thread melted into the curious fluid that seemed both liquid and gas. The boy wasn't done yet though, and immediately started to pull another string out.

The headmaster stopped paying attention, and started processing the information he had been given so far. While the news of this potential future was dismaying, the mere act of Harry coming back had changed things. And if they knew the future plans of the enemy, they could preempt them, at least at the beginning.

••••••••••

Harry had finished, and the two were resting in silence.

"So I assume I'm to review these memories?" Albus asked. He was looking at the Elder Wand, back in his hand. It had been his companion for so long that at times he took it for granted.

"Right. It would take several days if one were to watch them all in one go, so there's no rush. I'll definitely be around in time for school to start, but I'm planning on staying around the mind healers. I'll keep in touch."

"Is there anyone else you planned on bringing into this, Harry?"

"That's complicated… I'd prefer not to, but it may be necessary. We can discuss it before term. Well, it's been… interesting, but I'd like to get back to America in time for dinner."

Albus looked up, "Harry…"

"Yes?"

The headmaster sighed. "Stay safe. Try to have a bit of fun. It sounds like you need some."

Harry grunted noncommittally, and walked over to the fireplace. "Gods, how I hate the floo."

A minute later, the Headmaster was alone in his office again, with nothing but empty cups and an nearly overflowing pensive as evidence of the historic meeting.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 :** _ **In Which Two Strangers are Reunited.**_

Over a Year Later... About Two Months Before Term

When his alarm gadget shot out a puff of green smoke and the fireplace brightened with the telltale sign of a floo connection, Albus felt tension he didn't know he was under flow away. He had been looking forward to seeing Harry for quite some time now, and he hadn't been completely sure the boy would actually turn up. Harry had been rather cagey after their previous, and only, meeting, though, as promised, had kept in contact via letters.

Harry's young head appeared in the fireplace. "Permission to come aboard, Captain?" He asked cheerfully.

Albus blinked. "Granted. Come on through."

The head disappeared, and a few seconds later, Harry was flung out of the fireplace and rolled across the floor in a heap.

"Ow. I think I've actually gotten worse at this."

"Are you alright, Harry?"

The boy unfurled himself, smiled, and hopped into a chair. "Actually, I'm better than I've been in a long time."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Turns out that running a war for a decade can give you PTSD, among other things. It didn't help that I had nearly been made into a horcrux, either. And that was all _before_ I did the time traveling stuff. I've spent the last year, and a fair amount of money, getting my head fixed," Harry chuckled. "Well, 'fixed' is a relative term. But I'm feeling much better. More like a kid again. It's… nice," he finished, a large smile on his face.

"That's good to hear, especially if you're still planning on attending classes."

"I am. Which is why I'm here. We really need to discuss some things before term starts. Like Severus. I'm not having him treat me the way he did last time. Honestly, before my treatment, I was pretty set on killing him. But hey, I feel like a new person, live and let live, you know?"

"What?" the headmaster's head snapped up.

Harry shrugged. "He's an arse, and he did kill you after all. I suppose you'll say, 'Try to understand, Harry. He killed me, but everyone deserves second chances.' "

"… I find it unlikely that Severus would kill me without very good reason."

"I just won a bunch of bets I can't collect on," Harry giggled.

"Harry…"

"Oh, fine. Your pensive filled up before I got to it, but you told him to kill you as part of some convoluted plot or something. I doubt it succeeded, or I wouldn't be here in the past. I suppose this Snape hasn't actually done anything evil yet. Well, besides leaking the prophecy and getting my parents killed… I don't suppose I could convince you to let me maim him a little, could I?"

The headmaster was unamused. "No Harry, no maiming students or staff…" Albus paused, thinking back on the memories Harry had loaned him. "Merlin, last time you couldn't even make it past your first year without being forced to kill a teacher... No maiming students or Snape."

"And you told me to have fun last time we met… Fine, he is a pretty useful asset. But seriously, he's going to have to grow up some. As I said, I won't allow him to treat me the same way as last time."

"Harry, I know the man can be caustic, but-"

Harry's eyes twinkled, "Don't."

Caught off guard, Albus received a rush of memories and fell slack in his chair. Albus groaned, Legilimency was almost never used to give others memories, he would have to remember that trick in the future.

Shortly, he sat up, looking all the older. "I see… And the other Albus let this go unchecked?"

"I'm not sure. For all I know, that _was_ 'checked'. It's not as if he and I had long chats as equals. Prophecy or not, I was just a kid. Heck, even at my prime, I wasn't able to stand up to Riddle one on one for more than a few minutes before having to run. I can't imagine what you were like in your prime… Hey, maybe you can show me this time around, after we get another pensive. Or two. I obviously need to give you more context, or we're going to keep having moments like this."

Dumbledore didn't seem to be listening though. "What could have caused me to allow…?"

"Probably because you're as hard headed as Ron. Granted, that's because you're almost always right, but when you aren't, it's pretty near impossible to convince you of it."

That brought the old wizard up short. "Hmm. I suppose there is that. Speaking of Ron, are you going to be able to deal with seeing your friends again?"

"... I think so. It's going to be kind of awkward, but most of my closest friends were able to help me figure out how to engineer things socially... Merlin, we were all such idiots! Hermione was the only one with her head on straight. Think about it, Albus! At Hogwarts kids learn **magic**. The ability to control the world and bend it to our merest whims! And all most of us want is to learn is how to make homing snowballs or to unlatch bras by snapping our fingers. It's ridiculous!"

"I've always been slightly dismayed by the way students tend to let all of this pass them by. But I do hope you aren't planning on ending your classmate's childhoods prematurely. That isn't for you to decide."

"True. That's why I asked for their permission. Well, the ones still alive, at least."

••••••••••

"You wished to see me, Headmaster?" Severus asked in way of greetings as he entered.

"Yes. I have a great deal of news, much of which will likely aggravate you to no end."

"Albus?" Snape asked, rather perturbed. Dumbledore was acting out of character. Of course, Albus had never fully recovered since discovering the Potter brat had disappeared, especially after that last lead in Miami dried up.

"… I'm not exactly sure how to break this to you. Sit down. Take a glass."

Severus did so, feeling quite uneasy. He looked at the glass in his hand- three fingers of Firewhiskey. Albus was not in favor of drinking problems away: for himself, or others.

"Nineteen years from now, the war with Voldemort was going very badly. The last remnants of the Order of the Pheonix create a ritual that will send the memories and personality of one person back to the past, to inhabit their younger self."

Snape was many things, but slow was not one of them. "You've come from the future? That's wonderful, especially with the brat missing! I mean, it's annoying that our plan failed to that extent, but you know I never trusted it very much in the first place-"

"I'm afraid not. I did not last nineteen years. In fact, things went so badly that apparently, I was dying from a trap, and had you kill me to further ingratiate yourself to Voldemort _._ "

The room was silent once more as Snape processed that. "Oh." He partook of the whiskey.

"Quite."

Snape sighed. "Nevertheless, if you can trust this source, we have an intelligence windfall unheard of in... all of history. I am far from aggrava- ... oh Merlin, it's going to be someone I loath, isn't it."

"Most prescient of you. They assure me you'll be quite annoyed when you find out their name. I hope he's wrong, because it would be quite childish of you if true."

The man groaned and took a long sip of booze. "Unless it's Sirius Black or our 'glorious' minister Fudge, I think I can handle it, Albus. Wait, it's not Lupin, is it? Fletcher? No, the few ways I can imagine of sending one's consciousness back over a decade… It was a brave, if not foolhardy gambit. The world may end up owing this person a great debt…" Severus' face screwed up in distaste.

"Oh damn it all, it's Potter, isn't it. Him going missing at the same time as the magical disturbance, you suddenly calling off the search..."

"Your reasoning is sound, as usual."

Snape's remaining firewhiskey caught fire at the confirmation, and Albus frowned as his potions teacher started twitching. "Really, Severus, that is unacceptable," he declared, waving his hand towards the glass and snuffing it out.

Snape bit his cheek, and seemed to snap out of it. "Ugh. I knew he was going to be in this year's flood of munchkins. Merlin, he's going to be insufferable."

"Severus, I'm not going to let you work out your aggressions on him. You will have to take solace in the fact that you already have once. However much you despise him, he has reason to despise you just as much. Likely much more."

"I don't care what some _other_ me has done, I've done nothing to the boy!"

"And exactly what has the 11 year old done to _you_ that deserves such bile?"

Snape halted, well aware that, as yet, he hadn't even met the child. Much as he knew in his gut that Potter would be an agonizing pest, there was nothing he could say to the headmaster that would make him understand.

"He is the prophesized one. Now, with his foreknowledge, we are doubly dependent upon him, though he is sharing his memories with me as quickly as possible. He says he is willing to be civil with you if you can do the same to him. Severus, I will tell you this, if you two cannot work together, I will pick him over you. I have no choice."

Severus' eye started twitching again. "Fine. I can be civil to the brat. But he gets no special treatment in class."

"Of course. Why don't I call him in now?"

"What? Now? I-"

"Wonderful!" Albus interrupted. He nodded to Fawkes, who trilled in reply, and vanished. A moment later, Harry appeared with the phoenix, sitting in the chair next to the potions teacher.

Harry looked at the man with a stony face. "Professor."

Snape blinked, trying to catch up with reality. "Potter," he finally managed.

The whisky caught fire again momentarily, before Harry absently waved his hand, putting it out. "Apologies... It's been a long time since I've heard my name called in that… _special_ way you do it... We're similar, you know?"

Snape frowned, "Oh?"

"Yes. You look at me and see my father, who was, by all accounts, unbelievably arsehole-ish towards you. I look at you, and see a man that regularly went out of his way to make my life a living hell. But we're both going to have to get over that. If Riddle is going to be defeated, both of us will have to work together."

Snape stared at the boy. "Besides foreknowledge, what do you even bring to the table?"

The corner of Harry's mouth twitched up. "At the moment? Jack-all. Oh, I could fight some of the weaker Death Eaters, but that's nothing to write home about. When I was sent back, my big adult mind couldn't quite fit into my young, kid brain, metaphorically speaking. I won't be able to save the world single-handedly, as we had originally hoped. I've spent the last year or so with some mind-healers and muggle neurologists though, and since I'm magical, as I grow, I should go back to normal. –Ish."

"Then why should we have to work together? The headmaster says you are sharing your memories with him, why shouldn't we have this wrapped up before you've earned your owls?"

"Well, in case you've forgotten, I have to kill Riddle. It's been prophesied, you know?"

Snape rolled his eyes, "All that means is that you need to give him the finishing blow. Which should be all the easier if you're… 36 years old?"

"With any luck, my age will be one of those things Ravenclaw scholars argue about in a pub, centuries from now. Let's call it 34 for now. Anyway, the other reason you need me is because this won't be straightforward. I never learned what or where all his horcruxes were."

Snape was frozen, hung up on Harry's use of Horcrux in the plural. "How many?"

"Total? We think he planned on making my skull lucky number 7, but it didn't quite work out like that. We destroyed a few by accident, but that still leaves three unaccounted for. Ideally we'd wipe them out all at once. There's no telling what he would unleash if he knew he was backed into the corner."

Snape closed his eyes and grimaced. "Yes, he would rather the world burned than peacefully meet his end." The man frowned, and seemed to come to a decision. "Fine. I can be… civil. Actually, why are you even attending Hogwarts? You are from far enough ahead to have graduated."

"I could take -and pass- my OWLS now if I were allowed, but all that would do is draw even more attention to myself. My brain isn't really stable enough to pass my NEWTS yet. Best if I stay a brat whose only noteworthy quality is luck. Besides, I know Hogwarts like the back of my hand. Why give up the homeground advantage? You won't believe how many people and things attack me while I'm at school."

Harry's head twitched ever-so-slightly. "Nobby Nobbs!"

The house elf appeared. "Yessir?"

"Butterbear us, please."

"Yessir."

Snape's eyebrow rose as the house elf popped out of the room. "Something just, _happened_ to you."

Harry blinked. "Heh, you always were observant. I told you, my brain didn't fit. When the headmaster and I first met, I was an adult inside a kid, and it was literally driving me crazy."

Nobby appeared with three bottles of Butterbeer and handed them around.

Harry shook his head, "Geez, no wonder you looked like Santa had kicked your puppy last time we talked. I sat here and calmly told you I murdered my uncle as if it was common place."

"Sorry about that, by the way," he said, turning to Albus.

"I'm glad to hear it, Harry. I admit I was very troubled by some of your behaviour last time."

"Understandably so. Now though, I've got the opposite issue. The healers helped a lot, but now I'm kind of a kid again. With occlumency I can temporarily be mature and focus and stuff, but I lost a considerable amount of skill in that art when I came back. So I apologize in advance, but I'm probably going to do something immature and rude at some point over the years. Instead of being some kind of sociopathic warrior general, now I can't help being a stupid kid sometimes."

"Wonderful. Well, you know I have a reputation to keep. Whatever relationship we have as part of the Order ends the moment school starts. I will give no special treatment."

"What? But you give special treatment to Slytherins all the time! Don't tell me you're changing now!"

"I have the obligation to pander to the Slytherins so that they don't fall into the clutches of _Him_."

"Because that worked _so_ well last time," Harry chuckled, rolling his eyes. "Ooooh! I see! Dumbledore hasn't told you which house I was put into, did he?"

Snape frowned, not liking where this was headed. "What?"

"We'll be seeing a lot of each other. Green and silver are quite fetching, and the dungeons aren't that cold once you know a heating charm or two."

Snape dropped his Butter Beer, spilling it over the carpet as it rolled under the desk.

"NO. I refuse to believe-"

He was interrupted by Dumbledore and Harry breaking into laughter.

"Told you," Harry managed between laughs.

"So you did. Don't have a heart attack, Severus. He was in Gryffindor."

"Although I had to beg and plead the sorting hat. It wanted to put me in Slytherin quite a bit. If Hagrid hadn't kept going on about how _every_ evil wizard in the history of _ever_ was from Slytherin, or if Draco wasn't such an offensive blockhead, I might have ended up wearing the old silver and green."

"I think I may retch."

Harry turned serious. "Speaking of Draco."

Snape refocused.

"He's your godson, and for some reason, you care for the little gaylord. So I'm giving you a warning. I know the road you walk with him is steep and hazardous, but last time it lead to disaster. If you want to keep him alive, you need to do something besides feed his ego and let him play at Death Eater. Hopefully, with you and I having an agreement, half of his shenanigans will be still-born without you holding his hand the whole time. But seriously, if you truly believe we're going to beat Riddle, you know Lucius is doomed. You need to get Draco out from under his father's thumb."

"… That has merit to it. I'll take it into consideration."

"Good. He's a smarmy git even at 11, but he didn't deserve what happened to him."

"... I won't ask."

"I wasn't offering."

There was a lengthening silence in the room, which was eventually broken by the Headmaster. "Well, this went pretty well, considering. What are your plans between now and the first day of school, Harry?"

"I've got some stuff to do here and there. I'm planning on coming back to Hogwarts to strategize with you both a few times a week, if that's convenient. You'll need context for the memories, and I really need to socialize, to be frank. And you and I are going to need practice being around one another if we're going to make it through classes. I don't want to set my cauldron alight with accidental magic because I heard you call my name suddenly, for instance."

"That would be for the best," Snape agreed.

" 'With us both', Harry? I'll need to get Minerva up to speed, at least," Dumbledore interrupted.

"Whoa, nope, timeout." Harry crossed his arms in a referee gesture. "Loose lips sink ships. It's even worse with time travel involved. I didn't even want Severus to know, but he's an annoyingly competent spy, and would have probably found out sooner or later, and then ruined everything. We had planned on bringing Remus Lupin into the fold when he became professo-"

"What?" Severus interrupted.

Harry looked up, "Remus is smart, dependable, rational, loyal-"

"A werewolf."

"-Which gives him an in with the European packs. He's also a free agent when not employed here, which few members of the Order are."

Dumbledore cut in, "Regardless, that means we have two years to make a decision. In the meantime, I really think Minerva-"

"I'm sure you do. Minerva is a wonderful woman with many fine qualities. Subterfuge is not one of them. She couldn't deal with me being a student if she knew I already graduated. It wouldn't be 'fair' to the other students. At least with Severus, I know I can count on him not to care about fairness," Harry said with a grin.

"Watch it," Snape warned.

Albus frowned. "All right, shall we agree to not let anyone in without discussing it between all of us, then?"

Harry opened his mouth, then paused. "I was going to say it was my secret to share, but I can't really trust my judgement at the moment. Also, if any of us find evidence that the secret has been breached, it is obviously imperative we consult as soon as possible for damage control."

The other two nodded.

"Right then. I'm back to the other side of the puddle. I'll see you in a few days, at your convenience."

••••••••••

 _A Few Days Later, at a Convenient Time..._

Harry skid a few inches, face down, across the floor of the Headmaster's Office, having just flooed in.

"One _thousand_ points from Gryffindor!"

"Oh Merlin, not already. Wait until the year starts please," Harry groaned and pushed himself up. "What are you annoyed at now?" he asked, patting off dust.

"Dragons are illegal! You do not get to sneak them around the school!"

"Ugh. How did that memory even get in there?" Harry threw himself in one of the giant upholstered chairs. "Let's get something straight right now, Severus. Things people do in the future don't count against them, morally. Well, I'm making a special exception for Voldemort, but he deserves it. Sure, we take into account future actions, and plan for them, but people haven't actually done the things they did yet."

Snape scoffed. "That's nonsense. They've already done it once."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to debate temporal ethics with you. If you feel that strongly, then we both need to submit ourselves to the Dementor's Kiss."

"What?"

"I believe that's the sentence for what muggles call 'war crimes'. Both of us will have had the blood of hundreds on our hands."

Both Snape and Dumbledore grimaced, but Snape continued after a moment. "We will be fighting a war. The one before you came along was not bloodless either."

Harry sighed. "I assume you've been going in chronological order. Let me cut to the chase: during my sixth year, you get stuck between too many masters and too many life debts. I don't know the full story, but you kill the headmaster to save Draco, since he doesn't have the balls to kill Albus himself. The two of you ran off to Riddle.

"At this point, I think you were still trying to be a spy for the light. At some point that changed, though. He either corrupted you, or you were such a deep agent that the persona consumed you whole. Yes, we both fought a war, but not on the same side. You don't want to know. But the things people 'will-have-done' in the future don't count against them. All we can do is try to reshape things."

"… Damn it," Snape finally said, falling into his chair.

The two and a half men sat and pondered broodily. The three were quite skilled at it, having led lives that prompted angsty introspection.

A minute later the silence was broken. "Well, fat lot of good this navel gazing is doing us. Any other questions?" Harry finally asked.

"What should we do about our turbaned professor?" Albus inquired.

"Quirrel? Oh, nothing. First year is a cakewalk. We let it play out nearly unchanged. I'll be manipulating the younger students into being less stupid, and more mature."

"Hah. If you can do that, you should be a professor."

"I can only do it since I've lived with most of them for six plus years. Some of them were still alive at the end, and I know exactly what to say to get them on board."

Dumbledore sighed, "Oh Harry, please tell me you aren't going to make a cult."

"They told me to. But no, seriously, we don't want to muck up this year. My second year, things are going to be pretty easy to nip in the bud, with any luck, we won't even have to deal with the basilisk."

"Basilisk?" Severus asked.

"Eh, you'll get to it."

Dumbledore interrupted. "You will recall that Hagrid was expelled while Riddle was a student here. Riddle opened Salazar's 'secret chamber' and used dear Hagrid as a scapegoat for the consequences."

"Do you mean to tell me we have a basilisk in the castle?"

"It's in a magical deep sleep or something," Harry explained. "No one without the ability to speak parseltongue can open the chamber, or wake the snake. Considering the number of parselmouths, it's probably safer than having a forest full of acromantulas next door."

"Oh good grief! Why are there acromantulas in the forest?"

"Hagrid was a perfect choice for scapegoat because he was actually raising a monster at the time. It just wasn't the monster that was attacking people. He managed to get Aragog into the forest, rather than have him killed when Hagrid was expelled.

"Anyway, my third year should be boring. Oh, that reminds me, Severus. My godfather, Sirius. He's innocent. Peter Pettigrew was my parent's secret keeper, and killed those people in the explosion. I don't expect you to like it, but I am going to legally free him."

"You can't be ser-… You're joking."

"Hah, good catch. Nope. Don't worry, if things go according to plan, you won't see much of him. I'll get him set up as the owner of the Black and Lestrange vaults, and ship him off to an American healing center."

"What does that have to do with your third year being boring?" Snape interrupted.

"Sirius broke out of Azkaban. Bunch of stupid dementors everywhere, shrieking shack shenanigans, the whole shebang. You'll see. Anyway, I'll have access to Ron's rat first year, so that'll be fixed early."

Severus groaned and rubbed his forehead. "I'm almost frightened to ask what a rat has to do with this nonsense."

"Ron's rat, Scabbers, is Peter Pettigrew in his animagus form. Once I have him, you can work the legal channels to set Sirius free, and we'll have one of Riddle's most devout servants locked up. Just don't put him in Azkaban. Animagi can escape, as evidenced by Sirius."

"This is ridiculous. It sounds like some children's adventure story!" Severus growled.

"Dunno what to tell you. My opinion, no sane world would have house elves in it. Anyway, my fourth year we have to do some big changes, or else Barty Crouch Jr. will come along and revive Riddle. Now that could be a good thing if we've found all the horcruxes by then, or obviously, could be awful. We'll have to see how far we've gotten by then."

"How does Voldemort return to a physical body?"

"Ugh. Flesh of the servant, bones of the father, blood of the enemy, that sort of thing. It's all in the pensieve."

Severus turned even more pale than normal for a few moments. "I'm… aware of a ritual like that. His blasphemy is truly limitless."

"Yeah, not fun to watch, either. On the upside, we know his father. Anyone up for some grave robbery? We could probably switch his father's skeleton for, say, balsa wood soaked in basilisk venom, transfigured into bone. Might be interesting!"

Severus' eyebrows went up. "That is devilishly sneaky. Did you come up with it yourself?"

Harry shook his head, "Nah. Like all my good ideas, 'Mione thought it up."

Dumbledore interrupted. "Hermione Granger?"

"Yes. Someone once called her the brightest witch of her generation. That was when she took her OWLs I think. They were off the mark. She could have taught Rowena Ravenclaw a thing or two."

"How is she at potions?" Snape asked.

"Well, despite having you as a teacher, she managed to brew polyjuice in second year. In a disused bathroom," he chuckled.

Severus blinked a few moments, processing that. "Do any of your friends follow the rules, Potter?"

"Well, not if we could help it. We had to save the world, we didn't have time to bother with points."

"Urgh…"

"It's not like it mattered. The cup loves me."

"You think you can single handedly win the house cup?" Severus asked, voice tinged with amusement.

"You saw the end of my first year, right? Look, honestly, my first run through of school, I only had four things going for me. I have more flying talent in my pinky than some pro quidditch players. Whoopdee doo. Two, I can cast a patronus that's on par or better than the headmaster's. Nice if you have to deal with dementors, or daemons, but limited in use."

The air in the room seemed to turn solid, and Harry could feel the magic radiating off of Albus. It reminded him that for all that Voldemort would do in the future, he had always feared the old man sitting in front of him.

"Tell me of daemons, Harry. When did you have the occasion to try out the patronus on such a being?"

Harry flared his magic long enough to gasp out, "Air... please!"

Realization hit the monolithic powerhouse, and he brought himself under control. "Apologies. I had thought that the second World War would have ended that threat for longer than a few mere decades."

Severus and Harry were taking deep breaths, and mopping the sweat off their brows. "Well, as long as we kill Riddle before he decides to storm Nurmengard and suck all the knowledge out of Grindelwald, it may yet."

The air regained solidity for a moment before Dumbledore tapped one of his many odd devices on a shelf, and all the energy in the room seemed to get sucked into it.

"So... With me out of the picture, he dared even that. And with Gellert's knowledge, he could easily summon daemons."

"The summoning went well enough. Took him a few tries before he could bind them adequately. Hence my knowledge of patronus/daemon interactions."

There was silence, where each man thought his own thoughts.

Finally Snape broke the quiet. "I think you were explaining how pathetic you were last time, Potter."

"Right. What was I on, three? I have Hermione as a friend. Fourth, I'm supernaturally lucky. Probably because of the prophecy, I'm really hard to kill. That's it. And with those four things, I snatched the House Cup three years in a row. I don't even think they awarded the cup the other four years."

"What? Why?"

"Oh, the Triwizard nonsense my fourth year. My fifth year Umbridge came in and started the inquisition, I think the scores were so screwed up everyone decided there was no point. Sixth year Albus died and everyone had other things on their mind, and my seventh year I was playing horcrux-hunting-hooky, but I was told later that nobody even bothered with it, seeing as half the Slytherins were afraid for their lives from Riddle's forces, the other half _were_ Riddle's forces, most of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were immigrating or in hiding, and us stupid Griffindors were beating our chests and walking into the knives Riddle's forces would hold out in front of us."

Snape couldn't resist a snort at the mental image.

"Yes yes. Almost as funny as watching Goyle try to spell subtle. Or Crabbe try to define it," Harry quipped.

Both men chuckled, well aware of the student list, and knowing the Crabbe and Goyle families' older generations.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 :** _ **In Which a Boy Goes Shopping, Meets a Ferret, and Sees a Sweet Pair of Bristols Unexpectedly.**_

Harry was nervous. Hagrid was supposed to meet him any minute now and take him shopping. After all, Harry was muggle-raised, and completely clueless about the wizarding world, right?

At the time, Harry hadn't cared, but his disappearance had caused some considerable distress. Dumbledore was the first to find out, via Mrs. Fig, and he had spent quite a lot of time and effort chasing the lad down. Thankfully the Ministry was as incompetent as usual, and hadn't even noticed anything.

Dumbledore felt things were just fine that way, at least until Harry was found, lest panic reign, and give Lucius the chance to guide Fudge into doing something ill-advised. But many of the people Albus relied upon were still under the illusion that Harry was missing.

Albus, Harry, and Severus had brainstormed, and decided upon a cover story. Harry had used the fire as an opportunity to run away from home, made his way to the airport, and blended in with a bunch of students on a school trip from America. Then flown back with them. Once there, with no papers or money, he had been placed with foster parents.

The fact that this was completely ludicrous was offset by the fact that most wizards had no real knowledge of muggles, and any that found it unlikely would chalk it up to 'crazy muggles' and their primitive ways.

So when a very tired owl returned from America with Harry's student letter (signed in the affirmative), Albus had gone immediately to 'find' him. He 'met' Harry's (fictional) foster parents, and tried to convince them that Harry would be better of back in his birth nation, but failed.

••••••••••

"This way I'll 'be away in America' all summer, and can do anything that needs doing without people wondering where I am, or trying to shove me in a real foster house. I also need to go back to the mind specialists for a few weeks every year."

"And why would Albus let a bunch of American muggles keep you?" Severus asked, all too happy to play devil's advocate to Harry's ideas.

"Because if he used magic to 'persuade' them on foreign soil, he'd be neck deep in trouble until they realized he was the Supreme Mugwump, and then there would be international focus on me. Albus can say he wanted to keep this low key. Our allies can be given the old 'security through obscurity' line, and the ministry can keep thinking I'm living at Little Whinging."

"And when the ministry learns otherwise?"

Albus spoke up. "I shall say I was trying to keep the matter quiet. The fact that we 'lost' our national treasure and didn't even know it would look embarrassing both at home and abroad. I'll say I was keeping an eye on the matter, but couldn't act for the reasons Harry mentioned. Fudge is risk averse, and likes positive opinion polls. Yes, it will work."

••••••••••

And so Harry was in Gringotts, where he would be met by Hagrid, who would take him shopping.

"Harry? Harry, is tha' you?"

And there he was, only slightly late. Harry's stomach went queasy for a moment.

"Hello, Hagrid, right?"

"Right! I haven' seen you in years! Professor Dumbledore told you about… things, did he?"

"Yes. He also gave me my key, so I have the money I'll need for supplies, but he mentioned you'd have another task here as well."

Hagrid's face fell a bit. "Ah, right. Can't say as I'm a fan of the goblin carts, but this is important. You can stay up here if you want."

"And miss a cart ride? No thanks!"

Harry felt a large weight drop free. He had been stressed about meeting his old friends. If they all went this smoothly, it would be fine.

Harry asked appropriate questions and Hagrid answered as best he could up until the cart ride, which the large man was obviously not looking forward to.

But a cart ride (and one philosopher's stone in Hagrid's pocket) later, the pair were back at the surface.

Harry had mixed feelings about the goblins. They mostly had stayed neutral, but eventually they just up and left all of Britain to its fate.

The pair left Gringotts, and Hagrid led Harry down Diagon Alley. To Harry, it had been subjective decades since this place had looked so happy. He didn't need to feign his mouth dropping, nor his wonder at seeing the Alley 'for the first time'.

He did his best to ignore the flashes from the future that would occasionally overlay the idyllic scene in front of him: trash, filth, and the occasional corpse strewn casually about. It warred with the reality of happy parents and students milling too and fro.

"Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts. You can get yourself fitted at Madame Malkins there, and I should be back about the same time you're done."

"No problem! Take your time, if I get done early I'll look at the um, squiditch gear."

"The 'eadmaster told you about quidditch, did he? Good, good. Course, you can't get a broom yet."

Harry nodded. "I know, still, I can look."

Hagrid smiled and waved Harry towards the clothing shop before walking towards the pub.

"Now we see if butterflies can really sneeze out hurricanes," Harry sighed as he looked at his watch. Yes, he had timed things right, now to see how closely events would repeat itself.

He opened the door.

Madam Malkin herself appeared at the tinkling of the bell. "Hogwarts, dear?" she said, when Harry started to speak. "Got the lot here — another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

And there, in the back of the shop, stood the great silver ferret himself.

Despite hoping for this, Harry was still slightly surprised. Before he had come back, there was great debate amongst the intellectually inclined members of the Resistance about how quickly events would depart from the original timeline.

One group thought that the moment Harry went back, chaos theory meant that nearly everything was going to be different.

The other group had claimed that anything Harry hadn't influenced would mostly go on as normal. For example, unless he interacted with the castle's house elves, the breakfasts served every morning would be exactly the same as the last time around- at least for a year or so. That group had made him memorize a few horse race results in case he needed funding.

It seemed the second group was right, so far at least. "Enter Malfoy, stage left," Harry mumbled, before girding his loins and walking forwards with a smile. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to the platinum-haired menace, slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length.

"Hello," said the poncy git, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," Malfoy drawled, in a bored voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

"Hmm, sounds like fun," Harry granted. "Let me guess, seeker?"

And so history changed.

"Ah! Good eye," Draco seemed to animate at the mention of the topic. "Though I've been known to chase. Yourself?"

"Seeker through and through. Can't hit the broadside of a house with a bludger, but for some reason, the snitches love me."

"Splendid! Perhaps next year we'll be on the team together."

"One can hope. Or perhaps we'll be opponents? Everyone refuses to tell me how sorting works."

"Hah! I know, my father refuses to budge. He says it's one tradition he won't spoil for me. It doesn't matter though, I'm certain to get into Slytherin."

Harry pretended to droop a moment before catching himself. "Ah, then it seems we're likely to be opponents. I doubt I'd be well liked there."

Draco seemed surprised. "Oh? You seem like you'd fit in well enough. Ah, where are my manners? I'd offer my hand, but under the circumstances," he looked meaningfully at the tailoring that continued. "Draco Malfoy, at your service."

"Harry Potter, likewise."

Harry stifled a chuckle as Draco nearly swallowed his tongue, though the boy recovered quickly.

"Ah. You know, with the right friends, Slytherin need not be closed to you."

Harry looked at him contemplatively. ' _That was almost subtle.'_ "Well, it never hurts to have friends… But I doubt that Slytherin would work well for me. For one thing, green and silver don't go well on me."

Madam Malkin stopped a moment to look, then nodded in agreement, straight pins clamped between lips.

"A pity. Well, let me buy you some Fortescue's then, I hear he has another new flavor today."

"Sounds great."

"All right boys, we're done. Come up to the counter."

The pair paid and exited carrying their shrunken clothes, Harry allowing Draco to lead him to the premiere wizarding ice-cream parlor.

"Do we need to keep an eye out for a minder of yours?" Draco asked as they worked through the foot-traffic. "I tried telling my parents I would be fine, but they insisted on coming anyway, you'd think I was swimming Loch Ness without a wand."

"Ah, I think he's enjoying some liquid fortification at the Leaky Cauldron. Nice fellow by the name of Hagrid. Apparently he's the groundskeeper at Hogwarts. Rough accent, but terribly keen hunter!"

Harry nearly choked trying to keep his laughter in from watching Draco process that. He seemed to be adrift in the conversational ocean. But after a few moments, the boy rallied, and clung to the life preserver Harry had tossed him.

"Hunting! A grand pastime. Not enough wizards hunt, or so father says."

"Too true. Not enough dueling either."

Draco blinked. "Oh?"

"Rather! Have you ever been to an ICW Professional Duel? I got to see one last year in France. It's outstanding! As good as quidditch! Unfortunately, there's no demand for them in Britain, ever since You-Know-Who swooped in and roughed everyone up. You have to go to the continent, at least. Are you alright?"

"Fine," Draco managed. "Ah, we're here. Treat's on me."

"How kind! What do you tend to get?"

"Well, this will sound weird, but you know salted caramel?"

"Yes?"

"Caviar caramel. Tried it on a dare once, never looked back."

"Sold," Harry declared. Acting posh like this was surprisingly fun, though he had no clue how he was going to keep it up once he met Ron and Hermione. That would be quite the juggling act. Oh well, if he lost Draco, he wouldn't lose any sleep over it.

The two boys made small talk and ate their strange ice creams, Harry finding it surprisingly tasty, and complementing Draco on the discovery.

"Ah, Draco, I see you have company."

"Oh, Harry, these are my parents! Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy," the blond said between licks. Harry found himself strangely happy to see Draco was still enough of a kid to put ice cream as higher priority than proper introductions. "Mother, Father," he continued, "Please meet my new friend, Harry Potter."

Harry dipped his head briefly in acknowledgement. "Hello, sir, madam. Draco and I met at Madam Malkin's, and he was kind enough to buy me this wonderful caviar-caramel cone."

"Oh dear, don't tell me he's converted you too," Narcissa asked as she sat down. "Don't get me wrong, both caviar and caramel have a large spot in my heart, but only separately."

"I suppose it's not for everyone. I'm glad I was introduced to it though." ' _Day-um! Mrs. Malfoy's got it goin' on. I must have been blind as a kid. No! Focus on her face! I'm supposed to be eleven...'_

Lucius fired the opening salvo, a soft, tentative foray to scout the area ahead. "So, Harry, any idea what house you're aiming for?"

"Well, all the houses have admirable qualities, although, honestly, I hope I'm not a future 'puffer."

The table shared a short laugh.

"As I told Draco, I don't see Slytherin working out for me."

"He's right, silver and green really wouldn't go well on him," Draco nodded sagely.

"So that leaves me with either Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. I suppose I'd do well with either, really. Although I'm leaning toward Gryffindor at the moment, if only so that the two of us will be head to head next year in quidditch."

"Oh? You seek as well?"

"Only position I'm worth having on a team. I can a snatch a snitch out of mid air in my sleep, though I couldn't hit a bludger to save my life," Harry bragged.

"Were you able to see the Quidditch World Cup last year?" Draco asked.

"Just heard it on the wireless, more's the pity, though later I did buy a pair of Omnioculars that someone had watched the whole finals on. Can you believe the nerve of Lamont though? Blaming his father for giving him short fingers? Come on!"

The two boys laughed, and the elder Malfoys looked at each other meaningfully.

At that moment, Hagrid waded into sight. "Harry, there yeh are, I- er, hello?"

"Hey Hagrid! Feeling better? I met Draco while I was getting fitted, one thing led to another, and he ended up introducing me to this wonderful ice-cream flavor. Oh, these are his parents, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy!" He turned to the Malfoys, "This is Hagrid, he's a member of staff at Hogwarts, sent to make sure I was able to get all my supplies."

Hagrid suddenly looked in need of another pick me up.

"Good day," Lucius nodded, the greeting a bit chilly.

"Er, good day sir. Er, Harry, we need to get a move on, I'm afraid."

Harry didn't put up any fight, being friends with Draco was one thing, casually chatting with Lucius was another. Still, the bristols on Mrs. Malfoy; * _unff*_. You wouldn't get many of them to the pound. "Oh dear. Well, it was lovely meeting you all, and thank you again for the ice cream, Draco. I suppose we'll see each other on the train!"

"It was nice meeting you as well, Harry," Lucius said.

"See you on the train!" Draco called, as Hagrid nearly dragged Harry away.

"Er, Harry…"

"Yes, Hagrid?"

"Um, nothing. We need to get your books, the cauldron and basic ingredients, and of course your wand. I think after what you've been through you could use a birthday present as well. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at — an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'."

"Really? Thanks!"

Harry hadn't thought about this, a chance to own Hedwig again. She had been killed only a few years after the Fall. Harry hoped that his luck would hold out, and that if he could find Draco standing on that stool, that Hedwig would be waiting for him in the shop.

The supplies were purchased without any issue, and Harry now carried a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. The last stop was getting his wand.

Ollivanders was as narrow and shabby as Harry remembered. The wand in the window lay on the purple cushion, as it probably had for decades, possibly much longer than that.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. Harry had found the place secretive and mystical on his first visit, now he found it creepy and dusty.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry flinched. Hagrid must have been startled as well, as Harry heard a mumbled expletive from behind him.

Ollivander was standing before them, and Harry reaffirmed his opinion that the place was creepy.

"Hello sir." said Harry.

"Ah yes. Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Pot-... Oh what fresh hell is this?"

Harry blinked. "Excuse me?" This was not going according to memory.

Ollivander looked down at him for a few moments, then sighed. "I'm going to regret getting out of bed today, I can tell." He looked up at Hagrid. "Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again… Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

"It was, sir, yes," said Hagrid. "What is going-"

"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern.

"Er — yes, they did, yes," said Hagrid, shuffling his feet. "I've still got the pieces, though," he added brightly.

"... That's as may be." said Mr. Ollivander, eyeing the umbrella.

"For sen' imental reasons, o' course," said Hagrid quickly. He gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.

"Of course. Would you mind stepping outside? I'd like to talk to young Harry privately for a few minutes."

Hagrid paused. "Um, I'm naw sure why tha's needed. I'm here as Harry's guardian for the day."

"This is a private matter. He'll be fine with you standing on the other side of my shop door, won't he?" Ollivander pressed.

Harry's curiosity was peaked. "It's fine Hagrid, he just wants to talk. What's he going to do, anyway, turn me into a frog?" He asked with a smile.

Hagrid chuckled and shrugged. "Alrigh'. I'll be righ' outside, then."

As soon as the door closed, Ollivander spoke up. "First of all, I don't want to know. Secondly, would you have any idea which wand will want to chose you? To save us both some time?"

"What are you talking about?"

Ollivander sighed. "Harry Potter of all people comes walking into my shop with an aura like that? No, don't worry, I don't know what happened and I want to keep it that way. And as long as you stay away from wand makers I doubt anyone else could tell. Not like there's that many of us. Now, do we need to go through my whole stock, or do you have any hints as to where to start?"

"I may have an inkling. Before that though, are there any laws about owning two wands?"

"No, but it's generally a stupid thing to do. Wands will get jealous of each other. They don't like sharing, generally speaking."

"Well, I'll just have to make them get along. 'To save time', I suggest starting with holly and phoenix core. Eleven inches, supple."

Ollivander ran his hand through his hair and groaned. "Well of course. Should have seen that coming. And you'll need a second one because of it's brother, I suppose?"

Harry nodded.

"Do you have any suggestions for your second wand?"

"Have anything in the way of elder and thestral?"

Ollivander shuddered. "That is _not_ amusing, Mr. Potter."

"Elder and phoenix? Just guessing now. My wand lore is barely intermediate level."

"I do not have the Elder Wand, nor do I carry elderwood wands. It attracts the wrong type of attention. I suspect either aspen or blackthorn, with a core of phoenix. A different phoenix, obviously."

Harry tilted his head. "Hmm, yeah, I see what you're thinking, let's start there. I'll also need two holsters, two dueling style holsters, a polishing kit, and any information you know about the Trace."

"You don't want much, do you?" the man asked in tone suggesting quite the opposite. "As to the Trace, all I know is that it applied on the Hogwarts Express and involves the interaction between the wizard or witch and their wand. The trace is very old, and although one of my ancestors helped create it, it was considered a state secret. I only know about the Hogwarts Express because they changed the method of applying it several decades ago."

Ollivander bustled down the aisles, picking up a box here and there, before finally bringing seven back.

"Here's the holly and phoenix. Give it a go, just to make sure, please."

Harry picked it up, and felt a bit of himself relax. The wand felt comfortable in his hand, though it was much bigger than he remembered it. He gave it a wave, and the room went white.

"Ow. That was bright. Sorry about that, sir."

"Not the first time that's happened. Do be careful though. I think we can safely assume that's meant for you. Try out these as secondaries."

Harry tried the wands, with little result until the fourth one. Harry gave it a wave and nearly dropped it when it gave a loud bang.

"At least you didn't destroy any goods," Ollivander said tersely, before repairing the new hole in the floor with a wave of his own wand. "Seems I was right. Blackthorn with phoenix, 10 and ¾ inches, fairly springy, good grain pattern. Along with a polishing kit, two holsters of each type, and two wands is 16 galleons, 13 sickles, and 21 knuts."

Harry handed the man 17 Galleons. "I wasn't planning on this, but do you do staves?"

"... I knew I shouldn't have gotten out of bed today. Yes. Well, I _can_ do staves, but I haven't in well over a decade."

"How much for a custom one?"

Ollivander snorted. "All staves are custom at this point." He closed his eyes and thought. "Fifty galleons."

Harry bit his lip and sucked in air through his teeth.

"It ought to be twice that, but I wouldn't mind doing a stave again, and if Harry Potter starts swinging one around, I might even see others show some interest in them again."

Harry nodded. "Right, it will be worth it." He started counting out more galleons, "What do you need to customize it?"

"I've seen two wands pick you now, and I've seen your aura. I can do it. Although... if you trust me with your blood, I can make it better."

Harry stopped counting. "What kind of better are we talking?"

"Ten to fifteen percent increase in output, without any loss of finesse."

Harry blinked, and started counting again. "Right. Use it all, or destroy what's left."

"This isn't my first kneazle hunt Mr. Potter."

••••••••••••••••••

Harry walked outside, and saw Hagrid pacing back and forth just a few yards away.

"Blimey, Harry, that took long enough. Did you get a wand?"

Harry nodded. "Sorry, everything's fine now."

Hagrid sighed in relief. "Mind telling me what that was all about?"

"He had some advice. He's kind of creepy."

Hagrid nodded. "You're not the first to think that."

••••••••••

 _Several Days Later_

Harry flooed into the Headmaster's Office, managing to get a foot under him, only to trip from the momentum and fall face first into a cushion. "Thanks Albus. It would be rather ironic to be killed after all this by the floo network."

"No problem, Harry."

"What _did_ you do to my godson?" Snape demanded. "He wrote me the longest letter I've ever seen him pen, talking all about you. You'd think he had a crush."

Harry shoulders trembled and his face scrunched at the thought. "Eww! Don't even joke about that, Severus. Just because you don't do anything with your hair, doesn't mean that he's a-" Snape gave him a particularly withering glare.

"Look, I just made friends with him." Harry looked at the man. "You know what friends are, right?"

"I looked up the definition once, yes." Snape sneered. "What do you have planned?"

"Honestly? Nothing. We never bothered to make any plans to save him, we were too worried about saving the world. I just felt like some improvisation."

Snape groaned.

The three spent several hours discussing the events they had seen via the pensieve, Harry filling in context, or explaining what plans had been concocted upstream.

••••••••••

Something was buzzing. At first he didn't pay any attention, but it was an odd noise, completely out of place here. The black dog sat up and looked at the barred window of its cell. The buzzing grew louder.

Suddenly an odd flying object entered the window and fell to the ground in front of the dog, which, having absolutely no expectations towards this, jumped back in shock.

The dog approached slowly, recognizing the object as some sort of miniature version of a muggle flying vehicle. Then it noticed a small pouch tied to it.

The bag made a sound. "Sirius?"

"Woof?"

"Oh, good. Sirius, open the bag up."

The dog decided it might as well, and as gingerly as it could with paws and snout, opened the drawstring pouch. Inside, it found a mirror, a tiny box of dog treats, and a tiny bucket of fried chicken. The dog started drooling.

"Wait! Before you eat anything, let the shrinking spell wear off!"

The dog looked at the mirror. There was the image of a small boy there.

"Hey, it's your godson, Harry. I know you're innocent, and I'm working on getting you free."

The dog looked at the mirror for a moment. "Ruff?"

"No, you're Sirius, I'm Harry. I'm not joking however."

The dog looked at the mirror and grinned, his tail wagging.

"Glad to see you've still got a sense of humor. I'm afraid it's going to take another four to six weeks before I can grab Pettigrew, and then I don't know how long to get the legal process working. I've got Dumbledore's support though, so it won't take too long. Now, can you hide the mirror safely?"

The dog looked around the room. Yes, there were plenty of places to hide it, no one ever checked for contraband anyway. What was the point? It nodded.

"Great. I'll be able to contact you with it. Now about the helicopter, can you chew it into small enough bits to disguise it in your waste?"

The dog thought about it a moment, then nodded.

"Awesome. In about a minute the shrinking spell on the chicken should wear off. The dog treats will take a bit longer I think. I'd have given you chocolate, but that's poisonous to dogs, ironically. Now, I'm riding a broom just outside the range of the wards, so I need to get out of here. I'll talk to you sporadically, sorry to go so quickly. Stiff upper lip, you'll be free soon!"

The mirror went blank, and the dog stared at it for a moment. "Whine?"

Then the bucket of fried chicken grew to full size. The dog decided it didn't matter if this was all a hallucination; it was definitely eating the chicken.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 :** _ **In Which a Boy Runs Through a Wall, Rides a Train, and Re-acquaints himself with Dear Strangers.**_

Harry stood against the wall of King's Cross station with his trunk and Hedwig. He had sent his two wands ahead to the headmaster, and transfigured a bit of broom-handle into looking like his wand in order that the Trace wouldn't fix onto him. Now it was time for his finest performance. Hopefully.

And there they came. There could only be one group of redheads that size. Ron, Ginny, Molly, Fred and George, even Percy. Harry smiled.

The older boys had already gone through when he approached.

"Excuse me, ma'am?"

"Hello, dear," she said. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too."

Harry smiled. "Yes! The thing is, um, how exactly…?"

"Ah, simple! All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, go now before Ron."

Harry smiled again and nodded, looked back and forth, then took off towards the barrier.

It was old hat to him now of course, and soon enough he was on the platform, seeing bittersweet sights. So many faces, so many memories. There was Lee, showing off that spider in a box.

"Gran, I've lost my toad again."

Harry rolled his eyes. It was appalling what Neville's family had reduced the boy to. He needed to man up, and Harry was happy to help jumpstart that process. But not this moment.

Harry pulled his belongings on board, having spent a few days at Hogwarts customizing his chest. He had reduced the weight to half, and expanded the interior volume. Of course the chest now weighed the same independent of the contents. It needed his wand signature to open, though a thief or auror would have it open in about 30 seconds. Albus had happily agreed to give him the invisibility cloak early (much to the consternation of Severus). All Harry needed now was the Marauders' Map and a broom, and his panoply would be complete. He had plans on how to get the map early, as well.

The boy put his stuff away and waited. He was taking a slightly different approach than had happened last time, but it should work out. Outside, he could hear the Weasleys carrying on, before the train's 'all aboard' whistle sounded.

A minute later, the train started moving. Shortly thereafter, the door of the compartment slid open and Ron stepped in.

"Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry. "Everywhere else is full."

Harry smiled. "Help yourself."

Ron did so. Harry was about to speak up when the twins barged in.

"Hey, Ron," said twin one.

"Listen, we're going over to the middle of the train — Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there," said twin two.

"Right," answered Ron, looking queasy at the mention of a tarantula.

The twins looked at Harry, who had a look of horror on his face. "What's wrong with you?" asked twin one.

"Twin red-heads! I've been warned about you! They say never to accept any food or drink from you, and to always throw sugar over your shoulder should you pass by!"

The three Weasleys looked at him in surprise. "Really?" asked twin one.

"I think he's got our number!" supplied twin two.

Ron interrupted. "They're not that bad."

Harry looked at him. "Oh?"

"They're mostly annoying," Ron mumbled.

"Thanks for stealing our thunder," twin one (or was it two?) complained.

"We're Fred and George Weasley, he's Ron."

"Hi! Harry Potter."

The three blinked a few times. "Really?" asked Ron.

"Nope, I'm Celestina Warbeck. I'm under cover."

The twins chuckled. "I suppose he's more likely to be Potter. Hey, can you show us your scar?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Can you prove you're natural redheads?"

"Not before the second date, cheeky," one grinned.

"He's got some piss and vinegar in him, and no mistake!" the other said.

The two looked at each other before saying in unison, "We'll be keeping an eye on you. Later!"

The twins exited.

Harry chuckled, and watched Ron in his peripheral vision. The boy was staring.

"Um, so… Are you really Harry Potter or not?"

"Yep. It's not all it's cracked up to be though."

"Really? But, aren't you famous?"

"Well… yes, but I'm famous for not dying. Everyone on board has managed that so far. Heck, the seventh years have managed to not die six years longer than me, while studying at Hogwarts no less, they ought to be a bit famous too."

That seemed to go over the other boy's head. "Er, I suppose, but nobody else on board had You-Know-Who attack them, either."

"True. Do you think that as a baby, I cast some sort of spell and smote him down or something? Nobody knows what happened. I certainly don't remember doing anything. For all we know he tripped on the stairs and broke his neck."

Harry continued, "It's like… I'm famous for something I had no control over. Like having a famous father or something. What if, no matter what I do, I'll never be remembered as anything else than 'The-Boy-Who-Lived', who managed not to die as a baby?"

Harry could very nearly see a light bulb go on over Ron's head as the boy suddenly understood. Ron's jealousy towards his older brothers was obvious enough. In the future, with Ron's help, it hadn't taken too much effort to figure out how to make young Ron figure this out quicker.

"Um, I kinda get that. I've got five older brothers, and they all seem to be successful. You'd even heard of the twins."

"Well, no worries then."

Ron frowned. "Why?"

"You've got five older brothers, all of whom are successful. So you're bound to be too. Give yourself a few years, not all of us can be famous from infancy." Harry grinned and winked, and gently kicked Ron in the leg.

Ron snorted and grinned back.

Outside there was a great clattering in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door. "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Ron went a bit red and looked out the window. Harry went out into the corridor.

A minute later he returned, laden with three or four of everything.

Ron stared as Harry tipped it onto an empty seat.

"Hungry, are you?"

"Starving," said Harry, taking a large bite out of a pumpkin pasty. "You want some?"

Ron ignored him, and took out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and said, "She always forgets I don't like corned beef…"

"You say corned beef? Trade you this lot for them!"

Ron looked aghast. "Are you mad?"

"I haven't had corned beef in months, seriously. As much of this stuff as you want, mate. Let me have those sandwiches."

"You're loopy!" Ron said, tossing the bag over.

"I got some chocolate frogs, do you need any cards?"

"Ah, I definitely need Agrippa, thanks! ...Blast, another Dumbledore. You collect?"

"I had some once, but I lost my collection. Can I have the Dumbledore?"

"Sure."

"Thanks. We should probably change, too."

"Good thinking."

••••••••••

Some time later, there was a knock on the door of their compartment and Neville came in. He looked tearful.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

When they shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," said Harry.

"Yes," said the boy miserably. "Well, if you see him…"

He left.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk."

"Scabbers?" Harry asked.

"Oh, my rat; here, let me show him to you. Not that he's interesting," he continued, pulling Scabbers out of his jacket.

Harry grit his teeth a moment before Ron looked back up.

"He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," said Ron in disgust. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look…"

He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. Harry winced at it's appearance, he was going to have to get it into an 'accident' before the year was out. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end.

Ron saw Harry glaring at it. "Yeah, unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway —"

He had just raised his wand when the compartment door slid open again. Neville was back, but this time Hermione was with him. Harry bit his tongue to keep from doing anything foolish.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.

She was perfect.

Harry spoke up, "You still haven't found him? Hmm, maybe some magic will help? What's the toad's name?"

The other students looked at him curiously. "Trevor." Neville supplied hopefully.

"Well then, here goes nothing," Harry said, pulling out his transfigured broom handle. " _Accio_ _Trevor the toad_."

Nothing happened for a moment, before a girl let off a short shriek in the distance. Moments later, a fat toad flew through the open door and bounced off Harry's chest, onto his hand.

"This him?"

"Oh, thank you!" Neville gleefully cried, scooping up the toad.

"How did you know that spell? You look like a first year!" Hermione asked.

Harry was about to reply, but Ron beat him to it. "Well, he's Harry Potter! He's bound to know all sorts of things!"

The two newcomers looked at Harry.

"Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know all about you, of course — I got a few extra books, for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century. Um, could I see your scar?"

"My, shouldn't you take me to dinner first, or at least give me your name?" Harry asked coquettishly with a wink.

Hermione blushed, while Ron sniggered. "Don't mind him, he was like that when my brothers asked to see it."

Hermione blushed harder and Harry bit his tongue at Ron's accidental innuendo. "I'm Hermione. Granger." She pushed aside a few pieces of candy and sat down.

"I'm Neville Longbottom, thanks for finding Trevor!"

Harry scooted over and patted the seat next to him. Then looked at Ron, and kicked his knee.

"Huh? Oh, right. Ron Weasley."

"Were you about to do some magic?" Hermione asked.

Ron looked down, he was holding the rat and his wand. "Oh yeah, I was going to use this spell my brothers taught me to turn Scabbers yellow."

"Wait, you said you couldn't get the spell to work, and you got the spell from your brothers? The pair known far and wide for pranks?" Harry asked.

Ron blinked. "Oh. Yeah, they were probably joking around. I don't think spells are supposed to rhyme."

"Most are Latin derivatives," Hermione interjected, "Though there's plenty of influence from the Romans, Greeks, Egyptians… It's all rather a mess, really."

"Eh, it's all about focusing your intent. In Africa, they have a totally different set of spells that do most of the same things. So does South America, and the Native Americans and Australians. Asia has about a dozen too, of course."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I only know about it because it comes up in the ICW Professional Dueling circuits. For example, one duelist may know a spell in three different languages."

"Oh, why would they do that?"

"Well, each one has a slightly different wand movement, and if you do two or more spells in a row, some spells are easier to do than others because of the way your wand ends up."

"Oh."

Ron looked confused. "Huh?"

Harry pulled out his wand. "Let's pretend a spell makes you wave your wand from up, to down. It's easier to start your next spell if it wants you to start down, and then go, say, left. It only saves a fraction of a second, but think how long that is in quidditch."

Ron's eyes got big. "Oh!"

The door opened up again. "Ah Harry!"

Draco stood outside with his bookends.

' _Hard Mode engaged,'_ Harry thought.

"My, this cabin certainly is popular today, can we all fit?"

"You know him, Harry?" Ron asked.

"Sure, this is Draco Malfoy, we met in Diagon Alley. He let me in on a great ice cream flavor!"

Draco grinned, then looked around the quickly filling compartment, stopping for a second on Ron. "Crabbe, Goyle, why don't you two head back," the two looked at each other and shuffled off. "May I come in?"

"Sure, the more the merrier. I was just explaining why duelists learn the same spell in multiple languages, but I'm probably boring everyone."

"It was quite interesting, actually," Hermione spoke up, "I had no idea there was that level of detail involved. Of course, I've only known about magic for two months now."

Draco's eyes widened a fraction.

"Ah, manners," Harry spoke up quickly. "I introduced Draco; meet Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger. Ron, I know I traded you all these for the sandwiches, but you wouldn't mind if everyone had some, right?"

Ron looked at the, much smaller, pile of candy left. "Er, I suppose not. I'm stuffed."

"Great!" Harry picked up a handful of treats and tossed them around.

Everyone enjoyed a few snacks, and Harry was quite happy to have gotten even this far, but he knew sugar wouldn't work forever.

"Anyone heard any updates about the Gringotts break in?" Harry asked.

"Someone broke into Gringotts?" Neville asked, "What happened to them?"

"Nothing," Ron spoke up. "That's the bizarre thing."

"You'd have to be a pretty impressive thief to get in and out of Gringotts," Draco declared. "Of course, the Goblins _say_ nothing was taken, but they would, wouldn't they?"

Ron and Neville nodded.

"How do you know all this, Harry? I've read that you live with muggles," Hermione asked.

"Ugh, them. Yes, I got sent off to live with my aunt and uncle. In general, muggles are nice enough, but well… you can't pick your family. My aunt and uncle in-law were horrid. Thankfully, I have my psychic scar, or I'd never know anything."

Ron started choking on an ever-lasting-gobstopper. The real kind that William 'Wonkers' Clotsdale invented, not the muggle knock-offs.

"What? None of my books said you're psychic," Hermione said doubtfully.

"I'm not psychic. My scar is."

"You're having us on," Draco chuckled.

The rest of the cart nodded in agreement.

Harry grinned. "Okay, fine. I'll prove it. Give me a minute." He closed his eyes and seemed to go into a trance.

"He's pulling our leg," Ron said. "Geez, he's going to be as bad as the twins, I can tell."

Harry snapped back to attention. "At the feast, Professor Dumbledore will say four words." He pulled a sheet of paper out of his pocket, and a ballpoint from the other. He wrote down _Nitwit, Blubber, Oddment, Tweak_ four times each, and ripped off each piece before handing them to each of his friends (plus Draco).

"You're mental, but I can tell you're going to be fun," Ron said, reading his piece.

"We'll see. Well, my scar already has, but, whatever," Harry grinned.

The whistle sounded, and a voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

The five faces looked anxiously at one another. They were about to embark on a journey of education! … Although only Hermione would put it anyway remotely like that.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 :** _ **In Which a Boy Meets a Hat, Catches a Rat, and Talks about Ricin.**_

Harry stood, watching the Sorting Hat sing. He was happy to hear that it was the same as it had been his _first_ -first year.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Harry. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."

Harry grinned. Fred and George were going to be a ball. He waited patiently as Professor McGonagall read out the names. There were no surprises, thank Merlin. He'd hate to think what would happen if things like that were to change this quickly.

"Potter, Harry!"

And thus, the whispering began. Harry stepped forward, and put on the hat.

" _What in the world?"_

"Hey! I'm back!" Harry thought.

" _Good lord. Whatever. You seem to know what you're doing. Well, sort of."_

"Thanks; in that case, call it out… now!"

" **Slytherin!"** the hat boomed. Snape launched a mouthful of red wine across the professors' table.

The hat continued, " **Oh, wait, my mistake! Gryffindor! … Are you sure you don't want a new house for yourself? The Awesome House maybe? House of Potter, with a dragon mascot?"**

"Thanks, Hat."

" _No problem, just make sure to rub some leather-care ointment on me the next time you're in the big man's office. It's been decades."_

"Sure thing." Harry took off the hat, placed it on the stool, and walked past McGonagall, who was looking at him worriedly.

Sitting down at the Gryffindor table, he grinned at the jig the twins were doing. A few more names were called, including Ron's, and Harry applauded each as appropriate.

Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

Harry heard four more spit-takes. He grinned, hands peaked together in front of him, as the candle light reflected of his glasses. Just as planned.

The food arrived, drinks having been in the glasses all along. It was time to feast.

And feast, they did.

Eventually, stomachs filled, and mouths filled with chatter, rather than food. People talked about family, and such. Harry didn't focus on anything in particular, until he heard Neville, and Harry's stomach churned.

"Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville, "but the family thought I was a squib for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me — he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned — but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced — all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here — they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad."

A few students nearby laughed. Harry felt his stomach sour at the tale. The wizarding world was _so_ fucked up. These people were ostensibly his allies, and they were nearly as bad as the death eaters. 'Uncle Algie' was just the kind of person to agree with Death Eater rhetoric, if only they had the common decency to not attack proper wizards and witches. Casual prejudice and tribalism against muggle-born and squibs were endemic throughout British wizarding culture. Even the Weasleys didn't talk about their squib relation. Harry shook his head, he wasn't going to stop with Riddle. But one thing at a time.

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and the chatter died down as Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again.

Harry listened to the speech, not bothering to use occlumency to try and recall the exact memory. He was satisfied it hit all the same high notes.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed. After five opening ceremonies (taking into account the flying Ford Anglia debacle), this had become one of his favorite parts.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

Harry picked Queen's _Bohemian Rhapsody_ , for a change. Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was clapping the loudest, followed closely by the twins and Harry himself.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

••••••••••

The next few days were complicated for most of the first years. For Harry, it was like putting on an old pair of pants. Everything fit just right. He made sure to help everyone when he could; navigation alone had caused a few Hufflepuffs to break down in tears. On paper it was a large castle. When it rearranged itself based on astrological patterns, the Roman calendar, and the birthdays of previous Headmasters though, that was when the real headaches started.

Harry had found his wands in his chest along with the invisibility Cloak when he got to his room the first night. Hopefully if they could keep his wands from traveling on the train, it would prevent the trace, though that was partly speculation.

It was breakfast time on Friday when Harry waved Ron and Neville on, saying he'd skip the meal due to his stomach. The boys shrugged, and left with the rest. Harry waited a few minutes laying in bed, before walking over to where Scabbers was kept.

Harry wasted no time, and gave no warning. Peter was asleep, and Harry would make sure he stayed that way, at least until he got to Dumbledore.

A quick point-blank stunner, followed by a body bind, had Peter stiff and unconscious. Harry slipped him into his pocket, pulled his Cloak out of the trunk, and made way towards the Headmaster's Office.

Dumbledore and Snape sat at the desk, partaking of some breakfast an elf had brought up for them. They looked up as the door opened.

A moment later, Harry appeared, pulling off his Cloak. Severus frowned, imagining what trouble the boy would be getting up to with it.

Dumbledore waited for the door to close. "You have him?"

"Of course. He had no reason to think he was in danger." Harry pulled out the rat, and set him on the floor. "Stunned him and used body bind. The bastard can get free of practically anything. _Don't_ underestimate his ability to run and hide."

Dumbledore nodded, and cast the animagus reversal spell. Never a pretty sight, Harry found the end product even uglier than what they had started with.

"Presto, change-o, one Peter Pettigrew." Harry declared, taking the moment to grab a pasty off of Snape's plate.

"That definitely looks like him," Snape grudgingly remarked. He snorted. "You know, until just now, this whole thing felt only half real." He removed a vial.

"It would be better if you were absent, Harry, but if you must remain, please stand behind me under your invisibility cloak. I may have to present this memory as evidence, and Severus is recording this with a pair of omnioculars, as you suggested."

Harry nodded, a few crumbs falling from his mouth, and vanished halfway towards the rear corner of the office.

"How do you hide your presence so completely?" Severus asked, genuinely surprised at the level of skill the boy was showing.

Harry's voice came out centered on Fawkes' beak. "I played a lot of Metal Gear Solid… What do you think? Lots of field work. You got good, or you died. The prophecy kept me alive until I could do it for myself."

Snape shook his head and projected disdain, steadily getting acclimated to Harry's use of what were apparently anachronistic in-jokes and non-sequiturs. Dumbledore conjured rope, and bound Peter hand and foot before dispelling the body lock. "Action, gentlemen," he declared.

Snape nodded, and pointed the Omnioculars at him.

"Today, on this 5th of September, 1991, I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, am about to interview a man found inside Hogwarts grounds. I have suspicion to believe him to be Peter Pettigrew, and to hold valuable information on a number of topics. By rights given to me three times over, I shall question him. Assisting me is Potions Master and professor, Severus Snape, who shall be providing the administration of Veritaserum, and recording this via standard Omniocular. The man is currently unconscious, and I am about to revive him."

Dumbledore did so, and Peter blinked his eyes groggily, but Severus gave him no time, slipping the pre-measured dosage down the man's throat.

"Hello. Can you speak?"

Peter coughed a moment before answering. "Yes."

"Who am I?"

"Albus Dumbledore."

"Who are you?"

Peter looked quite terrified by this point, but was unable to stop answering. "Peter Pettigrew."

"Where have you been since the violence between you and Sirius Black?"

"I've been hiding."

"How?"

"I've-" suddenly the man started shrinking. Dumbledore shot him immediately with a stunner. He banished the ropes, repeated the animagus reversal charm, and re-bound him. Dumbledore revived him again.

"Argh!"

"Let's try that again, Peter. How have you been hiding?"

"I've been using my animagus form."

"Have you registered your form?

"No."

"What is it?"

"A rat."

"Why have you been hiding?"

"Because I don't want to be found." Peter broke into tears at this point, curling into the fetal position.

"… Hmph. The last time you and Sirius Black were in the same place, there was an explosion that killed several muggles. Are you aware of what I speak?"

"Yes."

"Did Sirius Black cast that explosion?"

"No!"

"Do you know who did?"

"I DID!"

Dumbledore paused. "Was Sirius Black the secret keeper to James and Lilly Potter's Fidelius?"

"No… no."

"Who-"

"I was! I was the secret keeper!"

"Were you a branded Death Eater?"

"… Yes."

Dumbledore stunned him. He looked back at Severus. "I believe this evidence is fairly self evident. I shall leave it to the Aurors to interrogate him further, as that is not amongst my specialties. I also feel it imperative that Sirius Black be given a fair trial, if not released immediately on the evidence just provided. I shall be looking closely at this matter in all of my relevant official positions. Thank you."

Severus pushed a button, and lowered the Omnioculars. "Right then."

"Ho-lee fuck!" Harry popped out of the corner, visible once more. "Oh, wow. That feels good. There's no way this can get buried! Severus, triplicate that Omniocular! If Fudge tries anything, we'll go to the papers! I'll leave this in your oh-so-capable hands, while I try to grab some more breakfast before first class! Boo-yah! Don't take too long Severus; don't want you to miss double potions! You gotta rock that cape, bottle fame, brew glory, and stopper death! Make sure your cape billows sufficiently! Highfive!"

Dumbledore reached out as Harry passed, and the boy slapped it, sprinting out of the room.

Severus groaned. "This is going to be a long seven years. He will be the death of me."

Dumbledore chuckled around a grin. "Hush. He promised not to kill you this time, unless you betray us again."

Snape's head swiveled. "… This time?"

••••••••••

Harry had wolfed down some sustenance and gathered his friends for a war council. Harry was leading them down to the dungeons via a less taken path so that he could speak freely.

"Alright, get ready to strap in and gird your loins, Snape can be rough. And part of his power over the student body is his first day impression. He is going to try to intimidate us, he will question our intelligence, and yell at us over mistakes. He and my dad hated each other, so he might go after me in particular. Ignore it all. Follow his directions, pay attention, and when he unfairly docks points, ignore it and move on."

"How do you know all this?" Hermione asked.

"Psychic scar. We've been through this."

The other three looked at each other. Surprisingly, Harry's 'scar' had an impressive track rating so far.

"Neville, mate, I've got some bad news. You're as bad at potions as you are good at herbology."

"Huh? But Gran says I'm really good at herb… Oh."

"Don't worry, you're going to be working with Hermione, who is naturally great at everything except flying and divination."

"Er, thank you Harry?" Hermione replied.

"What am I good at?" Ron asked.

"Right now? Chess, and eating. But my scar says you may have a promising career in the Cannons if you practice hard."

Ron nearly stumbled. "Are you serious?"

"No, that's my godfather. Hmm, my scar tells me to add that if you become a pro quidditch star, but neglect your studies, you will always be one bad injury away from being broke for the rest of your life. Harsh, but sound advice."

Hermione butted in, "If you learn the tax code, you can keep more of the money you make as a star, and have a job for afterwards."

Harry hummed. "Clever."

Ron looked thoughtful. "So what are you good at, mate?"

"Me? Nothing. I suck eggs. Fortunately my scar is awesome, and I get to cheat off it."

The group laughed.

"Ok, we're here. Hermione, you're with Neville. Make sure he doesn't blow anything up. Neville, stay calm and cool, and pay attention to Hermione. Let's do this thing."

They entered the room with at least 10 minutes to go, but found the room crawling with Slytherins. Harry tossed a wave to Draco, who smiled back, before arranging the four of them defensively near the wall.

••••••••••

The dungeon door banged open and Professor Snape stormed in, marching. His cloak billowed behind him as though he stood in a wind tunnel. He reached the front and sat down behind his desk. He wore an evil sneer as he scanned the room slowly with his eyes. He suddenly started calling roll, eventually pausing at Harry's name, and just uttered, "Potter."

"Here!"

Snape frowned, and moved on with the attendance.

"You are here," he began, "to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron, with its shimmering fumes… the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death – If you aren't the usual bunch of blockheads I get sent each year."

Harry smiled the whole way through.

"Potter!" Snape barked.

' _What? He must know I'm prepared for this? I've spent all my free time recently preparing for this moment.'_ "Sir?"

"What is the difference between _Ricinus communis_ and _Abrus precatorius?"_

Hermione raised her hand automatically for a moment, before lowering it again with a frown. The class was silent.

' _Well knock me down with a feather. I know I didn't show him this memory. But I've been interacting with him constantly, and he probably realised I'd be ready for his first instinct.'_

" _Ricinus communis_ is the binomial name for what is commonly known as the castor plant, notable for its oily bean whose uses could fill an entire book, and which also contains a deadly toxin. I don't recognize the second species, but I can tell you they are of different genus, and that Abrus is not in the index of either _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ , nor _Magical Drafts and Potions_. I suppose it may be an animal, in which case I'll feel rather foolish."

Harry and Snape stared at each other.

"Interesting." Snape finally declared. He stood up and waved at the blackboard, which filled with information about both plants. "Entirely correct, other than the possibility of Abrus being fauna rather than flora. The castor plant is useful to both wizard and muggle alike. The oils are used in several potions, none of which you will learn for at least three years. However, I wished to use it today as a metaphor.

"In its natural state, the seeds of the plant are toxic enough that as few as five to seven will likely kill you. But using the proper procedure, even muggles can entirely extract the poison, leaving a useful product, whose uses, as mentioned, could fill a whole book.

"The lesson I wish to illustrate from that, in case you haven't caught on, is that if you _don't_ follow the proper procedures, the potion you produce might well kill yourself or another."

There were a few audible gulps amongst the students.

Snape gazed out over the room. The silence stretched until it became uncomfortable.

Hermione raised her hand.

The professor sighed. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Could you describe the second plant, professor?"

Snape closed his eyes a moment, and Harry saw the merest hint of a smile. Snape turned t0 the board, where a brief description was written.

"The second plant is almost completely unrelated to the first, but produces a bright red and black seed that tribal peoples traditionally used in jewelry. In that seed is a poison, chemically very similar to the Castor plant's, despite the lack of relation. It is also several times as deadly, despite the castor plant's poison already ranking as one of the deadliest in the world, per unit. Merely an interesting coincidence of biology, it does not have any use in potions to date."

He turned back to the class. "If I am exceedingly lucky, one of you may become a proficient enough brewer to find a use for it."

••••••••••

"What do you think you are doing, Potter?"

The first class of potions was always double so that the class could go over the basics of safety and theory before trying, literally, the simplest potion in the book, a potion that would temporarily change the drinker's skin green for ten minutes. Harry had been preparing all the ingredients ahead of time.

"Some French technique I see on the telly often. My aunt makes me do all the cooking, so I convinced her to let me watch the food channel occasionally."

"I did not ask for your autobiography, Potter. Are you referring to _mise en place?_ "

Harry nodded, "That sounds right. All of the ingredients are dry today, so it seemed unlikely that a delay between the chopping and adding would effect anything. I glanced through some of the instructions over the summer, and they were quite specific, so I assume either you or the book would have warnings about things like that."

Snape was glaring, but couldn't seem to find anything wrong with his preparations. Finally he stalked off, but not before calling out, "One point from Gryffindor, for comparing potion brewing to making omelets."

••••••••••

The rest of the practical portion had been brutal. Snape had been every bit as caustic as Harry remembered towards anyone who made a mistake, and while the four of them made it out relatively unscathed, Dean had gotten another point off from Gryffindor over some imagined infraction.

"Geez, that was rough!" Ron griped.

"I don't know, it didn't seem that bad," Draco came walking up behind the quartet.

"That's because your head of house tells you all what to study a day ahead," Harry replied, nonchalantly.

"What?" Hermione cried.

"Hmm. I suppose that does help. I suppose your scar told you that?" Draco ignored Hermione's enraged growling.

"Told you it works."

"Does it? You seemed a bit lost back in the classroom," Draco teased.

"I don't rely on it constantly. What fun is there to that? And I admit, it isn't perfect. It's not a seer."

Hermione snapped out of her berserker rage. "Wait, it's psychic, but not a seer? How does that work?"

"Well, there are three kinds of divination. Tarot/tea leaves/chicken bones/ entrails, etc.- which are a load of cobblers. There are seers. Seers, when they have a genuine vision, are a hundred percent correct. But it's completely useless anyway."

"Huh?" Neville asked.

"A proper vision always gets garbled by the time it leaves the seer. You get things like: The cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon, little boy blue and the man in the moon, the timing of the father's return is uncertain, but when it occurs, the prodigal son will have fulfillment." He paused. "In other words, only useful after it's happened. Then everyone can point and say, oh, yeah, that's what that was about."

Hermione was grinning at the muggle reference while the others nodded.

"So I assume you have the third type?" Neville asked.

"Yep. The Awesome kind. It's actually useful, but can sometimes make mistakes. You'll notice I got half of his question right?"

They nodded.

"Anyway, leave it to Severus to be immune to psychic scars."

"Professor Snape, Harry," corrected Hermione.

"Where?" Harry leapt an inch off the ground. "Geez, don't scare me like that."

"No, his name. Professor Snape."

"I'm well aware of Slytherus Snade's name, Hermione."

She huffed.

"Careful, he is my godfather."

Harry turned to face Draco, a look of surprise on his face. "Really? Look, you seem to know your way around a hair-care spell or two. Can you talk to him?"

The group shared a laugh.

"I've tried, believe me," Draco sighed, exasperatedly. "The man doesn't believe in product."

' _Geez, I forgot how camp the boy could be back then_ ,' Harry thought, "Hey, after lunch, we were headed to see Hagrid. Would you like to come along?"

Draco blinked. "Some other time, perhaps, Slytherins have mandatory puppy kicking lessons around then."

"Wha-" Ron started.

"He's kidding, Ron. Slytherins can do humor. It's rare, but it happens," Harry interrupted.

"Quite. We're actually drowning sacks of kittens," Draco grinned. "Here's where we part, I'm afraid." Draco turned off into a stairwell, while the others continued towards the Gryffindor common room.

••••••••••

"I'm telling you, something's happened to Scabbers!"

"I believe you Ron, but you saw me try to summon him like I did with Trevor, I don't know what else I can do!"

A few hours after lunch, the four Gryffindors left the castle and made their way across the grounds to see Hagrid. Unfortunately, Ron had inevitably noticed his missing pet, and was upset.

"I know… it's just, we're wizards, right? But we can't do anything!"

"Magic solves fewer problems than you might suppose, Ron. And it creates all sorts of new ones."

Harry caught Hermione eyeing him curiously, and reminded himself to stop dropping sage advice as if he had a four-foot beard. It was time to drop practical, psychic-scar-approved advice.

"The dog acts fierce, but is more likely to smother you with love than bite. And speaking of biting, the biscuits are as hard as rocks, they can shatter teeth."

The others nodded, having finally given up arguing about his scar.

Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door.

When Harry knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang — back."

Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.

"Hang on," he said. "Back, Fang."

He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound.

There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Hermione and started licking her face, much to her annoyance. She managed to fight him off, only for him to share his affection with each of the boys, in turns.

"This is Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley," Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water in a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate.

"Welcome, any friend of Harry is a friend of mine! Biscuits?"

The students pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first lessons. Fang rested his head on Harry's knee and drooled all over his robes as the boy scritched the hound's favorite spot between the ears.

"Transfiguration seems tough. Although Hermione was able to make her match silver."

"You made yours perfectly needle shaped though!" Hermione complained.

"It was still made out of match, and only for about five seconds… before it caught on fire. You should have seen Professor McGonagall's face, Hagrid, you'd think I had grown a second head!"

Neville and Ron told Hagrid about Snape's lesson in detail. Hagrid nodded. "He's a right mean one, he is. Better than Filch, that old git, but not by much."

"How's yer brother Charlie?" Hagrid asked Ron. "I liked him a lot — great with animals."

While Ron told Hagrid all about Charlie's work with dragons, Harry picked up the infamous cutting from the Daily Prophet: GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST

"That's interesting," Harry noticed. "I hadn't realized the Gringotts break-in was on my birthday! Jings, we probably missed it by only a few hours, Hagrid!"

Hagrid coughed and looked away, before offering to refill everyone's tea. Hermione looked curious, but it seemed to go over Ron and Neville's head. Harry decided it would be mean to continue poking Hagrid on the subject, especially as he already knew everything, and let the topic drift to something safer.

Everyone had a good time, and they agreed to come back next week, time allowing.

••••••••••

Draco was in his room, eyeing the mirror he had received from his father in the post. It had come with instructions for use, and now, apparently, was the time to carry them out.

He tapped the mirror with his wand, saying softly, " _Teleoculus."_

The mirror went completely dark a moment, then a few moments later, his father's face appeared.

"Ah, punctual, I see. Good. I've decided we should have a method to communicate faster than owl. You are well, I hope?"

"Fine, father."

Lucius smiled, "That is good... Tell me how the upperclassmen have arrayed themselves."

Draco blinked at the sudden demand for knowledge, but rallied quickly.

"It is almost exactly as you predicted, father. Randal Quince seems to be courting a few blocks, though."

"Mhmm. A minor discrepancy, but I'll make a note. Remember, you aren't to be obviously nosing around. _If_ you come across something interesting, then share it with me, but it is more important not to get the wrong reputation. In a few years time you will need to be more proactive, but not until I'm satisfied of your discretion."

"Yes father."

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "You seem distracted. Speak your mind."

"... Potter does not act like a Gryffindor. As I've written to you, I spend some time with his group. That is actually the first problem. I know students form groups organically, but Potter, Weasley, Longbottom, and Granger act like a block already. And he seems to have more information than he ought, seeing as he supposedly was in the muggle world until the beginning of term. His sorting was also… highly irregular. … Has anyone ever been sorted 'incorrectly'?"

Draco watched his father's face grow thoughtful. "Interesting. Another mystery surrounding the Potter boy, lovely. Hmm. Many have tried to understand the sorting process, either as an academic challenge, or to predict notable students. People who go on to greatness tend towards two extremes during sorting.

"Either they are sorted immediately, showing a strong pull towards a certain way of thinking, or the sorting takes a very long time, showing a complex personality. Most Malfoys are sorted within seconds… _He_ took over ten minutes."

It was clear who his father was referring to.

Lucius continued, "Some have not been placed as expected. Your great-great-uncle, Cancerim Malfoy, was illegitimate. He was sorted into Gryffindor. After graduating, he moved to Italy and ran their equivalent of the Wizengamet from the shadows. On his deathbed, he said it was stupid for the Malfoys to sort themselves into a house that others perceived as self serving, or even evil. He refused to explain how he got himself sorted to his preference." Lucius paused. "Cancerim… I haven't thought of him for quite a while, he was the black sheep of the Malfoys, besides being a bastard, but in some ways was the most true to our principles… Potter is definitely an enigma. I'm glad you have become friendly with them. Continue, and don't alienate yourself. The Weasleys and Longbottoms are both firmly in Albus' camp, and their children are unlikely to take kindly to our philosophies. The mudblood won't at all."

Draco nodded. "Of course. She is another oddity. She absorbs knowledge like a sponge. We're only a week in of course, but she's ahead of several notable purebloods in many courses. If Potter _did_ pick them consciously, he has an amazing eye for talent."

Lucius frowned. "Perhaps. I've never said muggles nor mudbloods could not be intelligent. In a few years though, the lack of strength in her magic will be evident... There is also a theory that witches and wizards born of muggles are the result of old, diluted blood lines meeting again. The second great war would have involved her grandparents. Times were chaotic. She could have more magic in her blood than anyone is aware."

Draco's eyes scrunched a moment. If first generation magicals were born from old blood lines crossing, then… he was distracted from the thought by his father.

"Is there anything else to report?"

"No, father."

"Than I bid you well until next week. Same time."

"I will still be sending owls, yes?"

Lucius smiled. "Of course. If you stopped, people would notice."

Draco smiled back, "Give mother my love."

"Of course. Good night my son."

The mirror went black, then Draco saw himself in it again.

He sighed. All things considered, that had gone very well. The bloodlines idea his father had mentioned though, there had been something he was confused about, but he couldn't think of it now.

"Oh well, if it's important, I'll remember it in the morning," he muttered, as he prepared for bed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 : _In Which a Boy has a Flying Lesson, Learns that a Friend is Tsundere, and Starts a Revolution (Whilst Eating a Cheeseburger)._**

Time seemed to fly by for Harry, which he supposed made sense. Depending on how you looked at it, he was nearly 35, though thankfully he didn't act it. The hardest thing he had to do in school was to pretend he didn't know too much.

He had decided to keep a low-ish profile his first year, but in a year or two, he had plans to start an inter-house study group. Among other things.

"Why do I never see your ink well?" Hermione asked one day while they did homework. She was eyeing his quill.

Harry looked around, no-one outside of their group seemed to be paying attention. He jerked the end of the feather off, to reveal the innards of a modified ballpoint pen hidden inside.

"You!" Hermione began to shout. Harry leapt over and covered her mouth with his palm.

"Shh… I'll share, just calm down."

Hermione's face was red, and Harry honestly didn't know if it was rage or embarrassment from their proximity. He lifted his hand, only to have Hermione flick her quill at him repeatedly.

"I can't believe you made me use these stupid bird feathers!" She hissed, punctuating her words by splattering ink at the boy. She stopped. "Is it allowed?"

"Well, there isn't a rule against it. But let's not find out; savvy?" he asked.

She frowned. "Hmmph. Fine. Give me a couple and I'll forgive you."

Harry smiled, and dug four out of his bag, handing two to Hermione.

Ron and Neville had just sat there, watching in confusion. "Is there something wrong with quills?" Neville asked, once the fight seemed over.

"Yes," Harry replied. "They suck. Try these out. Don't dip them in anything, just start writing."

The boys tried them for a bit.

"Huh. Kinda weird, but it is quicker than having to dip every few words. And they aren't as messy. Do they never run out?" Ron asked.

"No. They'll run out after a few months to a year, bring it back to me and I'll fix it."

"You could probably sell these, you know," Hermione said. "At least to muggle-borns."

"Now that you know the secret, is there anything stopping you from picking up a bulk box of refills over the summer and making your own?"

She paused. "I don't know how to hollow out the quill like that… but you're right, I could figure it out eventually."

"Upper years would just buy the pens and transfigure the outer case into feathers," he added, before shrugging. "Eh, I'll probably barter the idea to the Ravenclaws in a year or two, so keep this under your hats for now."

••••••••••

It was the second Thursday of term, and Harry half regretted befriending Malfoy, as there would be little chance for him to show off and become youngest seeker in a century. Still, he wasn't worried. He'd get in next year easily enough.

Neville and Hermione had both been dreading this day, and while Harry had tried to calm them, it seemed beyond his ability to put them at ease.

Still, they seemed better than last time around as everyone sat at breakfast. The morning post arrived, and Neville's Remembrall showed up, right on time.

"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things — this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red — oh…" His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, "…you've forgotten something…"

Harry scanned the room for Draco. He wasn't worried so much as curious. He found Draco chatting with Blaise animatedly, Crabbe and Goyle on either side as always. None of them seemed to be paying any attention to Neville.

Harry shrugged, and went back to eating, as Neville tried to remember what he had forgot.

••••••••••

That afternoon, the Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Slytherins showed up at about the same time, coming from the exit closer to the dungeons. On the ground was a broomstick for every student, lying in neat lines on the ground. Harry looked at the sad pickings, and prompted his friends to stand near a group of four that looked less worn-out than the rest.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Students ambled hither and yon, some of the brighter ones trying to find a broom in decent repair.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'"

"UP!" everyone shouted.

Harry didn't bother; everyone had made enough noise for him. His broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. It seemed Harry had made a bit of progress with his friends: Hermione had done better than last time, and hers made it a half foot into the air before falling back. Neville's broom vibrated. Harry sighed internally. In a way, brooms were like horses: they could tell nervous riders. There was more to it than that, of course, but until they had more confidence in themselves, neither would be flying proficiently.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Harry made certain not to notice when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle — three — two — one!"

*TWEET*

Neville at least waited for the whistle this time, but still pushed off much too hard.

"Come back, boy!" Madam Hooch shouted. Most of the class were hovering a yard or two in the air, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle— twelve feet — twenty feet…

' _You're the flying instructor; go and get him, silly cow!'_ Harry thought, rolling his eyes, as he went to catch his friend.

He got underneath the boy just in time to catch him, the falling weight pushing the pair down so that Harry's feet just hit the grass lightly. Harry set down Neville and flew back up to the quickly retreating broom.

"Potter!"

He ignored Hooch, and mentally flexed his magic to hit the broom's 'nitro button'. Catching up to the runaway broom, he grabbed it and flew at a serene pace back to the class.

Most of the students were awestruck. Madam Hooch had no problem speaking her mind however. " _What on earth_ did you think you were doing young man?"

"Making sure my friend didn't break any bones. Then I noticed his broom was racing off. How was he supposed to practice without a broom?"

Hooch frowned, glaring at him. Harry smiled back serenely, trying to look as if he didn't understand why anyone would have an issue. Finally she sighed and shook her head. "Right. Take two! Everyone land, and practice taking off again. Harry, stick with Neville. On my whistle!"

The class continued, a rare novelty from Harry's perspective. By the end of the class, everyone could at least hover, and most of the students could steer.

••••••••••

That evening, McGonagall handed Harry a note at dinner as she walked up to the professor's table.

Harry looked at it curiously, but decided there was no point in _not_ opening it.

A minute later he sighed. "What's wrong, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"I have the feeling I've been tapped to be seeker this year," Harry explained dejectedly.

Ron started choking on some baked potato. "What?" he managed.

Harry ignored him, poking at his food. Things had changed, how had this occurred? Of course, he was only invited to join the tryouts. He could underperform… No, Hooch would be there. Her performance today notwithstanding, she wasn't a fool.

It seemed he was destined to have fun. He snorted, a wry grin on his face. Darn it.

••••••••••

Saturday morning, Harry's thoughts of the impending tryout that afternoon were completely disrupted by the Daily Prophet headline that was causing no end of chatter amongst the older students. Percy thrust the front page in front of Harry. "Have you heard? I thought you ought to know before everyone hounds you."

Pleasantly surprised at Percy's thoughtfulness, Harry thanked him and took the page.

 **PETER PETTIGREW ALIVE- BRANDED WITH DARK MARK!**

 **SIRIUS BLACK FOUND INNOCENT OF ALL CHARGES!**

Harry smiled and had to refrain from running a victory lap around the room. He took a quick look around the main hall. It was pretty full, and all of the professors were talking to one another, probably about the news.

He raised his cup of juice, and hissed a parseltongue activation word into it.

A firework went off in the middle of the room, flying up and seemingly entering the enchanted ceiling before exploding. As the explosion faded, all that was left was the Canis Major constellation, the Sirius star particularly bright, and the words: Can't Keep A Good Marauder Down.

Harry watched the professors. More than one had summoned a house-elf for something hard to drink. Snape was staring at Harry and muttering, while Dumbledore, and, surprisingly, Quirrell, seemed to both be studying the ceiling.

After a minute, the spell ended, and the ceiling went back to normal. There was even more murmuring and chatter, as students tried to figure out what was going on, and how it related to the news. The upper years had all immediately grasped the significance of the Sirius star, but what in blazes was a Marauder?

••••••••••

Harry walked out to the pitch. It was time for the Gryffindor Seeker tryouts, and he had been invited. Almost commanded, if one read the subtext in that note he had been given. He looked around at his competition.

Everyone was older, no surprise there, and male. Harry couldn't recall any of their names off hand, though he probably could if he dredged through his old memories. They were giving him odd looks, understandable since first years were banned from flying outside of classes.

Harry was used to odd looks.

There were only five others, which was somewhat surprising, Seeker was a glamorous position. Demanding however, perhaps that was what was putting others off from entering.

Wood was in the center of the pitch, and suddenly an alarm spell went off. "I suppose it's time then. Only six? This is sad. Well then, let's see what you're all made of then. You all know why you're here. We're going to have the Weasley twins launching bludgers at you, one by one, five minutes a piece. We've put a padding spell on them, so they won't break any bones, but they'll leave a bruise. If that's scary, go ahead and leave now."

One of the boys, a third year, Harry guessed, looked a bit shaken, but they all knew how bludgers worked. Wood was right, if a bludger scared you, you shouldn't be on the pitch.

"We do have a snitch loose, but we don't expect you to actually catch it in the allotted time. Let's call it a bonus. Focus on dodging the bludgers, but if you feel up to it, try and find the snitch. I'll be scoring you all, and the twins and the chasers will be giving me their opinions." He gestured to the twins, already airborne, and Katie, Alicia, and Angelina in the front of the stands.

"Right then, any volunteers?"

A sixth year stepped forward, broom in hand. "I'll go first."

"Good, a little Gryffindor bravery! Good luck!"

••••••••••

Harry watched three of his competitors before he grew bored. None of them had been really _bad_ , but none of them were great either. No wonder he had been picked sight unseen the first time. This time he hadn't pulled off a Wronski Feint by accident though, so it made sense that he would have to work a bit more.

Harry stepped towards Wood about thirty seconds before the end of the round. "I'll go next, if you don't mind?"

Wood only dropped his eyes for a moment before they were back on the current candidate. "Ah, Potter. You got specifically pushed forward by Madam Hooch. You think you can handle yourself up there?"

Harry looked up at the boy as he narrowly dodged another bludger. He hadn't been so lucky the entire time.

"All that's at stake is my pride and a few bruises. I'm told I'm talented. Yes, I can handle this."

Some of the others frowned, but if the staff had allowed Harry the attempt, nothing could be done. He was only a first year anyway.

"You're up then." Wood grabbed his whistle and blew it to call time.

Harry grabbed the school broom and mounted.

"You're using a school broom?" someone asked.

"First year. Don't have much of a choice, do I?" Harry replied as the other boy landed. Harry took off, and waited for Wood to blow his whistle.

"Oy, it's ickle Potter! Don't think we'll go easy on you."

"You'd better not, don't want to catch the snitch too easily or I can't show off my skills."

The whistle sounded.

Harry had been trying to find the snitch since Wood had first mentioned it. He had seen it once or twice, but the device was designed to be easily lost, and it was even harder to follow it from the ground.

The boy dodged the first bludger easily. "Oy, I'm not that small! You'd better aim or I'm going to fall asleep."

The second bludger came much faster, and right at his head. It was easily dodged too, despite its speed, because George (or possibly Fred, despite the name on his cape) had made it a simple straight attack. Beating was an underappreciated art, and beaters had to use the bludger's homing properties to their advantage, making curves or spirals, sometimes having a bludger come in to a target's blind spot.

Harry spent the next few minutes dodging bludgers, the difficulty quickly ramping up as he gave them some good natured cheek.

He turned back to Fred(?) to shout more trash talk when he noticed the snitch hovering under the beater.

"Seriously?" Harry brought his broom around and made for it.

There was the crack of the beater's bat from behind him, and Harry took a quick peek behind to see a bludger inbound. The boy knew what was coming, but there wasn't going to be another chance to catch the snitch in five minutes.

He watched Fred's eyes track the bludger as it came closer to Harry, and swerved just as Fred grinned. The bludger flashed by. The easy part done, Harry poured on as much speed as he could with the aging school broom. Fred reacted quickly to the situation, and sent the bludger back at Harry, a straight shot again, but this time well calculated.

Harry was perhaps 30 feet away when he heard the crack of the bat again, headed full speed towards the beater. He immediately aimed beneath Fred, waited a moment, then spun his broom a half rotation so that he was flying upside down.

The snitch, which previously had been quite content to hover in Fred's shadow, took off as if it knew a predator was coming.

Harry shot beneath Fred, the two could have kicked each other, as Harry tried to keep up with the snitch. The magical gizmo led a merry chase, always just out of reach.

Suddenly Harry saw movement in his peripheral vision, and his instincts made him dive as a bludger flew by.

"Damn it, where'd it go?"

The snitch was lost again. Then Harry heard the whistle.

Growling, the boy-of-many-hyphens flew back down to the ground.

••••••••••

"Excellent work Harry. I think it's safe to say you set the bar so far."

The others were giving him looks again, but now ones of surprise, a few of awe.

"I'd have gotten the snitch if I had a decent broom."

"Yes, I think you would have. Well, who's next?"

The ones who hadn't gone yet were looking nervous.

"Come on, one of you might get it."

Harry grinned and walked back into the stands. He might as well get a seat until Wood released the results.

••••••••••

"Is it true?"

Harry, Neville, Hermione, and Ron were sitting in the library before dinner when the guerilla interrogation was sprung.

"Whatever it was, I didn't do it." Harry responded immediately. "I want my solicitor; the body was there when I arrived!" He turned around to see Draco looking at him oddly.

"Oh, it's you. Um, maybe. Is what true?"

"I heard through the grapevine that you've been accepted as the Gryffindor seeker. That would make you the youngest in something like a century."

"Those are some impressive grapes," Harry replied. "If it were true, I would've been told to keep it secret." He smiled. "Gryffindor tryouts only ended an hour or so ago, you must get news quick. How soon until everyone knows?"

Draco shrugged. "Monday breakfast at the latest. I'm jealous. I thought we were going to be opponents?"

Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry, it's not like I planned this out. My scar didn't even say anything. But once they invited me to tryout, it would have stupid not to go for it, right?"

Draco reluctantly nodded. "Well, of course…"

"I'm sure you'll get in next year. Anyway, I was thinking I would raid the kitchens tonight for a bit of a celebration. Anyone in?"

Ron jerked to attention before Harry had finished the sentence, while Draco looked excited.

"Wait, sneaking around after curfew? We'll get caught," Hermione worried. Neville nodded in agreement.

"Nah, it'll be fine," Harry declared. "Come on, show some Gryffindor courage."

Neville licked his lips nervously, then shrugged and grinned. "If you say so, Harry."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'll think about it. What time?"

Harry shrugged. "11:30?"

"Where should I meet you all?" Draco asked.

"You know the painting of the bowl of fruit?" Harry asked.

"Hmm... oh!" Draco lit up. "Yes."

"There will be great. We'll be there around 11:45."

"Splendid. See you then!" Draco left the library grinning.

Ron watched Draco leave before speaking up. "Harry, I've kept shut so far, but do you know anything about the Malfoys? My father works in the ministry, and… well…"

"And you've overheard him talk about how Lucius Malfoy is a bigoted ass who worked with You-Know-Who. I'm aware." Harry looked around, the library was fairly empty. He silently cast an anti-eavesdropping spell around the table, using his wand under the table.

"Look, this conversation never happened, right? Never mention it to Draco. His father? A right evil bastard."

"That's quite rude, Harry," Hermione interrupted.

"No, he's right," Neville disagreed. "My gran says the Malfoys have been dark wizards for the length of the family's existence."

Ron nodded in agreement. "My father has plenty to say about him, nothing nice." He turned to Harry. "So why?"

Harry frowned. "It's complicated. Basically, at the end of the day, Draco doesn't deserve to have his father turn him into an evil git."

Ron frowned. "I guess he's been okay so far."

Hermione frowned. "Harry, something's been bothering me... What aren't you telling us?"

Harry froze. "That's… _really_ complicated." He prevaricated. "... I promise I'll tell you before summer vacation?" he half asked.

"That's ominous," she replied, disapprovingly.

Harry shrugged. "I suppose. I don't like keeping things from you all, but…"

"Do you not trust us?" Ron asked.

"If I didn't trust you all, we wouldn't be friends," Harry answered. "However, there are magics that can read your mind."

His friends were silent. Hermione processed the bombshell first. "I've never read of anything like that!"

"Well, you don't think they want everyone to _know_ , do you? It's not exactly a secret, but it's not taught in schools, either."

"How do you know about it?" Neville asked.

"Dumbledore made me learn the counter to it. There are still Death Eaters, like Lucius Malfoy, out there in the world. Some of them are not happy about my continued existence."

His friends looked as though both Christmas and summer breaks had been canceled. "Wait– your 'psychic scar'. Is that just you using mind reading?" Hermione demanded.

"No. Think about it; some of the stuff it's predicted could have been gleaned from someone's mind, but it's predicted quite a few accidents no one could have known about, right?"

The group nodded.

"So you _don't_ know how to read minds?" Hermione asked to make certain.

Harry sighed, ' _Of course she'd pick up on that, She's Hermione._ ' "Well, yes, it's difficult to learn one without the other, but I almost never do it. It's unethical, rude, and I'm really pants at it. "

The others at the table looked nervous.

"Really, when I try I usually make faces. It looks like I have severe constipation." Harry squinted and stuck his tongue out sideways.

Ron's eyes rolled, and he boxed Harry's ear.

"Professors Dumbledore and Snape know how to do both, which is why the twins hardly ever get anything over on them. I'm going to teach you how to block it over the summer, but in the meantime, if either of them look into your eyes, do two things: imagine them both making out, and keep thinking 'don't think about elephants'," Harry explained, rubbing his ear.

"Eww, mate! Why'd you have to go and say that?" Ron asked.

"If you reacted like that, imagine how it feels to break into your head and find that image there. Ergh. And of course, if you keep thinking about not thinking of elephants, you will almost certainly think of nothing but elephants pretty quickly. Neither technique will stop a skilled practitioner, but it might slow them down long enough for you to get away, or break line of sight."

••••••••••

Harry's spell woke him up at 11:15 that night, and he roused Ron and Neville. The three threw on their bathrobes, grabbed their wands, and descended to the common room.

"Do you think Hermione will join us?" Ron wondered aloud.

"No telling," Harry replied.

They stepped out into the common room. In one of the over-stuffed chairs sat Hermione, wearing a pink bathrobe, passed out with a book on her lap.

"I guess so," Neville remarked.

Harry tossed a mild tickling charm over to her, whereupon she immediately jumped awake with a squeak.

"Who did that?"

Harry smiled.

"Of course. I'll get you back for that, you know."

"I look forward to it. In the meantime, are you joining us?"

Hermione frowned. "I suppose… But I'm just coming to keep you all out of trouble."

Harry laughed. "Hermione Granger: tsundere. Explains so much…" He led them through the portrait of the fat lady as he chuckled.

"What are you talking about Harry? What language was that?"

"Shh," Ron admonished. "We need to keep an eye out for Mrs. Norris. Filch too, but if we see him it's probably too late."

"Follow me; walk slowly, but don't worry about trying to step lightly. Focus on listening for cats and adult footsteps. And don't bump into any armor," Harry advised.

The four carefully maneuvered themselves down the castle until they found themselves at the bowl of fruit painting.

Leaning against the wall waiting for them was Draco, in a green bathrobe.

"No bookends, Draco?" Harry asked curiously.

"Well, you didn't invite them, and honestly, they don't do subterfuge. One of them would have tripped over their feet and landed in an armor stand or something."

"Fair enough."

"So, how does one get into the kitchens then, Harry?" Neville asked.

"Yes, I do hope either you or your scar knows, if not, I'm missing out on my sleep," Draco verbally prodded.

"It's easy. Just tickle the pear." Harry demonstrated, and the pear turned into a door handle. Harry opened the door to reveal the massive Hogwarts kitchens.

"Hey guys, can we get some snacks?"

A dozen house elves appeared.

"Eep!" Hermione jumped back. "Y-you can't apparate in Hogwarts grounds!"

"They're house elves. Technically they aren't apparating. They usually refer to it as 'popping'."

"Students aren't to be out past curfew, you know…" said one of the elves.

"Oh come on, we promise we'll leave the plates really messy. Hey, I'll even spill some condiments on my bathrobe."

The elves looked at one another. "Only if you all spill something on your bathrobes," one finally countered.

"Deal," Harry extended his hand, and the lead elf shook it.

"What kind of bargaining was that?" Hermione asked, as the group walked over to one of the tables.

"House elves love to clean and do menial tasks," Draco answered. "I'd have never thought to bribe them with it though. Clever, Harry."

"Make sure to spill some food on yourself before we leave. You don't want them annoyed at you," Harry suggested.

Harry explained the concept of a 'bacon cheeseburger' to the house elves, all of whom were eager to try cooking something new.

The five students tore into their burgers with gusto, making sure to spill some condiments on themselves. "I didn't think about it until now, but why did we all wear bathrobes to sneak around the castle?" Neville asked, halfway through his burger.

The kids looked at one another. "That does seem odd. I thought it seemed right at the time, but it's kind of stupid, really," Draco mused.

"Your scar have any ideas, Harry?" Ron asked.

"Neither of us have a clue. Won't do it again though. Too drafty."

The boys nodded.

"Please tell me I'm not the only one wearing underwear underneath," Hermione looked pained.

Harry chuckled while the other boys blushed.

"I have to make friends with some girls," Hermione muttered.

"You should reach out to Parvati, though Padma would probably be easier to relate to. Sorry she's in Ravenclaw." Harry shrugged. "Eh, don't worry, next year the group will be a lot more balanced. I'll be reaching out to the Patils, Susan Bones, maybe Hannah Abbot. More boys, too; Blaise seems to have a good head on his shoulders. Too early for Cedric, but... Oh, and of course, Luna and Ginny will be here next year…"

Everyone started talking at once.

"Huh?"

"What does Ginny have to do with-"

"What are you talking about Harr-"

"So you _are_ creating a power structure!"

Harry looked up from his burger. "What, you didn't think I got the four of you together just because you're all awesome and fun conversationalists, did you? The five of us are the future founding members of the Ashes of the Phoenix. I've got a 50 year plan. We're going to drag the wizarding world kicking and screaming into the 21st century."

This proclamation was met with silence. "Um, Harry, it's still the 20th century," Hermione pointed out.

"Only for nine more years. What part of 50 year plan did you not hear? Anyway, it'll be a heck of a time just to drag the country out of the 18th century. But my scar says that our generation, starting with the five of us, will lead Magical Britain into a new renaissance."

"Harry, we're just kids, we can't start revolutions. My mum would kill me, for starters," Ron said.

"We're kids at the moment, yes. But so was Dumbledore, once. So was Fudge. Hell, so were Voldemort and Merlin for that matter." He paused to let everyone overreact to Riddle's nickname. "Actually, Merlin was a kid twice, what with the whole ageing backwards curse. This is a long term thing. We won't always be kids; sooner than you'd expect, we'll be adults, with the power to change the world for the better, or the worse. I want to make the world better."

"What makes you think the world needs improvement?" Draco asked.

Harry nodded. "The world always needs improvement, but I get where you're coming from. As part of the establishment, you're pretty happy with the status quo, that's understandable. But Draco, think about this: is it better to get half the pie, and lord it over everyone else who gets a small sliver? Or would it be better if everyone got an entire pie to themselves?"

"Well, it would be lovely if everyone got to have a pie, but while we're visiting fantasy-land, why don't we pick up some metaphorical ice cream and chocolate humbugs, too?" Draco scoffed.

"I didn't say it would be easy. Look, the wizarding world, at least in Britain has, for the most part, stalled, if not regressed, over the last 200 years, in almost every way possible. Culturally, ethically, technologically– do you know muggles have walked on the moon?"

"What? That's daft!"

Hermione broke in, "That isn't commonly known? Americans landed on the moon in 1969."

Draco blinked, looked down at his burger, and took a bite, thinking.

"If nothing else, we need to modernize our world just to stay alive. If the statute of secrecy was broken currently, the muggles could destroy our entire society within a decade. We need to start looking into fusing muggle technology with magic, we need to start systematically designing new spells, we need to bring our code of law out of the medieval age. Our economy works literally and figuratively by magic, which is a _bad_ thing, in case that needs explaining. We need to increase our population size, create real industry… the list goes on."

"That sounds like a lot of work, Harry," Ron said, uneasy, "Don't we get some say in this?"

"Look, I know this is a big fireball I'm dropping on you all, but I'm not asking any of you to do anything right away. We've got several years of school to learn and have fun in ahead of us. And I'm certainly not going to force any of you to join me. But I think what I'm offering is pretty attractive."

"What _are_ you offering, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Beyond making the world a better place? Well, for starters, if it works, our names will live on in memory right beside Rowena, Godric, Salazar, and Helga. I also offer a greater challenge than you'll face anywhere else. Fortune is to be had. Everyone might get a pie, but some will have ice cream and humbugs as well. There will be power, but we'll be using it responsibly."

Harry looked around. "Any of that sound good?"

The others sat, lost in thought.

"I'm not asking you all to join me tonight. In fact, I don't want an answer now. And it's not like you can't change your mind either way. And even if any of you say no, I still want to be friends. You all are awesome, and good conversationalists," he grinned.

The five finished their meal, and headed out after thanking the elves. They were almost to where Draco was going to separate from them when Peeves popped out of the wall in front of them.

"Ickle firsties out past curfew? I wonder what Filch would say?"

"Hey Peeves. If you let us go, you can have a box of fireworks I stashed behind the statue of Vlad Taltos."

"Oh? How do I know you're not telling whoppers?"

"You know where I sleep, don't you?"

"Is that an invitation?" Peeves gasped in delight.

"Only if the fireworks aren't there."

The poltergeist sped off towards the statue.

"Why do you have fireworks stashed away?" Draco asked.

"In case I need to distract Peeves, of course. Trust me, Draco. My scar and I are going to go places."

His friends, especially Draco, looked thoughtful as they walked through the halls and made their way to bed.

••••••••••

The next evening, Harry's mirror vibrated, signalling that Sirius wanted to speak to him. The two had only spoken briefly on a few other occasions, as it was just too risky while he was incarcerated.

Harry silenced his bed curtains, and picked up the mirror.

"Harry?"

"Hey, Sirius. I read the news. How's freedom treating you?"

"Pretty well. But I think we have a lot to talk about, don't we?"

"Perhaps, but perhaps not quite yet. Where are you, and what's going on?"

"The Fudge administration is 'paying reparations' in part by sending me to a specialty healing center to 'rehabilitate me'. I'm sure that the fact that it's in America, and far away from any reporters has nothing to do with it."

"Perish the thought."

"... Why are you… How did you… _What's going on_ Harry?"

"That is a good question, that requires a long story. And you definitely deserve to learn it. Unfortunately, you don't know Occlumency, or else you probably wouldn't have swapped roles with Peter."

"But that's all over with, Moldie-Wart is dead."

"Only mostly dead. Remember, mostly dead means he's slightly alive. It's not quite time to go through his pockets for change. You ever heard of a Horcrux?"

"Holy fu- ...dge. Those are real? My family had some odd fairy tales, and I just always assumed…"

"No, they exist. And Tom Riddle, aka Voldemort didn't just do it once either. But this is straying into territory that you really need to learn Occlumency before I can share. As part of your rehabilitation, I've arranged for you to be taught it. Then I can share everything, and you can join us."

"... Alright. I guess I'll have to trust you for now. Saving me from Azkaban has to be worth some trust."

"Ha! I would hope so."

"Talk to you later, Harry."

"Later, Sirius. Hump the legs of some pretty American nurses while you're over there."

Sirius chuckled. "Already on it!"

••••••••••

Draco looked at the mirror. It was time for another report to father, and he was worried. He'd never thought about withholding information before, but the boy didn't want to share his experience the other night in the kitchens with his father.

It was, however, exactly the sort of thing Lucius would want to know about. Although the whole thing seemed fanciful coming from the mouth of such a young student as Harry, Draco also knew that someone their age shouldn't be capable of coming up with such an idea at all.

Either Harry was a genius, or someone was feeding him lines.

… Or he really had a psychic scar.

Any way you sliced it, his father ought to be told, if only to find out who was behind Harry's ideas.

And yet…

It wouldn't hurt to tell his father later, after, say, something more concrete had happened. Yes, if he told his father now, he would be scolded for wasting his time.

A part of him whispered that he was rationalizing his choices, that he was having fun keeping a secret from his father, but he shut it out.

" _Teleoculus."_

"Good evening, Draco."

"Good evening, Father."

"Anything interesting for me?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary…"


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 :** _ **In Which a Troll is Hunted, Bird Shit is Scrubbed, and Secrets are Revealed**_

With the addition of quidditch practice, it seemed to Harry that Halloween snuck up on him. Halloween, how nostalgic. Especially the first one. Of course, Ron probably wouldn't do anything stupid enough to send Hermione crying to the bathroom, but why let something like that ruin the defining moment of their friendship?

In Professor Flitwick's class, it was time to learn to levitate objects, and Harry and Hermione were trying to get Neville and Ron to improve.

"Wingardium leviosa."

"Ron, it's 'levio _saaaaaa'_ ," Harry explained with a grin.

"No it isn't," Hermione argued, "and you have to pronounce the 'gar' long and hard."

Harry chuckled. "Hur hur, you said 'long an-' "

"Shut up, Harry," Hermione blushed.

" _Win_ _ **gar**_ _dium Leviosa,"_ Ron tried. The feather shook a bit, but stayed flat on the table.

"I'm telling you, levio **saaaaaa**. Watch. _Wingardium Levio_ _ **saaaaaa**_."

The whole class started floating up into the room, students, books, quills and all. Only desks and other furniture seemed immune.

Seamus started the breaststroke towards the windows. "Wow! This is brilliant!"

Harry was floating upside-down, looking around the room confusedly. "You know, you might be right about that after all, Hermione."

The girl was not amused. "I don't know how you did that, but I'm going to hurt you for breaking the rules of magic," she hissed, _sotto voce._

Professor Flitwick, a man who definitely knew how to have fun, had followed Seamus's lead, and swum a lap around the room, before deciding to get back to business. "Right children, get back towards the floor, I'm about to cancel this effect, and we don't want any bruises, do we? _Finite_." There was no change. " _Finite Incantatem!"_ Everything fell back to earth.

"Well, while that was certainly amusing, let's not have a repeat of the incident," Flitwick declared to the room.

••••••••••

That evening, the Halloween feast was interrupted by Quirell as he sprinted into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll — in the dungeons — thought you ought to know."

He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.

He looked at Harry a moment, who grinned and winked. He hadn't shared this particular episode with his partners.

"Prefects, lead your Houses back to the dormitories! Except Slytherin, if the troll is in the dungeons, you'd better stay in here."

Harry turned to his friends. "Who wants to go catch a troll?"

Ron lit up, as Hermione and Neville choked on the last bite of food they had eaten.

"Really? You think we can do it?" Ron asked.

"Sure. It'll be fun!"

"There's no way I'm going troll hunting. Right Neville?" Hermione asked.

"Er, right!"

••••••••••

The four snuck towards the horrific stench, wands out, ready to cast at a moment's notice.

"How do we keep ending up like this?" Hermione whispered to Neville. The boy shrugged.

"Be vewy, vewy qwiet- weah hunting twoll," Harry murmured over his shoulder.

"So what's the plan when we find it, Harry?" Ron asked.

"Simple, we use chained reductors on it until its face caves in."

"A brilliant plan Harry, if I may say so, but with two small problems." Neville pointed out.

"Oh?" Harry prompted.

"I don't know what a reductor is, let alone how to chain one," Neville responded.

"Oh. Right. Hmm. Bit of a sticky wicket, that one." Harry turned the corner.

The troll was not in the girl's bathroom, since Hermione wasn't there to attract its attention. In fact, Harry was looking at it from across the hall. Harry pulled back around the corner.

"Alright, new plan. We're not far from the forbidden third floor hall, we'll lure it there, and whatever is guarding the area will take care of it for us."

"You're insane," Ron declared. The other two nodded in agreement.

"URR?" came from around the corner.

"Too late, follow my lead!" Harry whipped round the corner again. " _Cracker, Cracker!_ " Two of the firecrackers Dumbledore had used earlier shot out of his wand and exploded against the troll's face. "Yo, ugly, follow me!"

The troll blinked away its confusion from the bright crackers and charged down the hall.

"Crikey, he's fast, what a beut!" Harry shouted, beating feet. The three students tore down the halls following Harry, who would occasionally spin around and fire a few crackers at the pursuing troll.

"Stop that, you're only making him angrier!"

"That's the plan! Up these stairs! Left here. Hermione, you know the unlocking spell by now right?"

"Yes!"

"Get ready to use it!"

The four found themselves in a length of hall with only one set of double doors at the end.

"Unlock it, quick! Everyone stand in front of the door, and get ready to leap aside!"

Harry pointed along the hall and cast, " _Lubricium!"_ while Hermione shouted " _Alohomora! …_ Um, Harry, the door's already unlocked."

"What? Oh. Oh dear."

The troll did not seem to care about this change of plans, and barreled down at the Gryffindors.

"Jump!" Harry grabbed Neville and pulled him clear as Ron and Hermione leapt to either side of the double doors.

The troll hit the patch of slime, sliding into, and then through the doors in a shower of wood splinters and blood. The students sat up and looked inside.

They were met with a rather surreal scene. An unconscious troll lay partially on top of their potions professor, who was cursing up a storm. That paled into insignificance though, next to the giant three headed dog that appeared to be waking from a nap.

Harry took one look and conjured a tin kazoo, which he spelled to play itself, before tossing it into the room and hauling his friends out of the area.

Thankfully they were almost back to the dorms before his friends seemed to realize what had happened.

"Harry, we can't leave professor Snape there like that!"

"He's fine. Snape can take care of himself. The troll was unconscious, anyway, and he had his wand."

No one replied.

He frowned. This hadn't turned out to be as much of a bonding experience as he had hoped.

••••••••••

The next morning, his friends still weren't talking to him, though they all seemed relieved to see Snape sitting at the professor's table.

"Remember, don't look him in the face, or he'll get in your head."

Hermione snorted, and ate her breakfast.

Harry frowned, and did the same.

Potions class that week was hellish, as Snape was in a foul mood. He walked with a slight limp for several days, and was quick to take his anger out on students, particularly Gryffindors. With Hermione looking after Neville, it was often Seamus and Dean who took the brunt of his anger. Harry sighed, took a look around to see if anyone was looking, cast a silent _impervius_ charm on his cauldron, and scraped the remains of his ingredients into his potion. The reaction was spectacular to say the least, as orange sludge started overflowing the cauldron, and a horrible stench filled the room.

"Potter! How? You!" Snape seemed to break for a moment. "Detention! Every night! For a week! Leave!"

Harry grabbed his things and ran out of the room, leaving the smoking cauldron behind.

••••••••••

His friends met him in the common room after class.

"How did you mess your potion up like that, Harry?" Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know, I just dumped whatever was in front of me into the pot."

Hermione looked shocked. She just stared at him.

"Are you _trying_ to be an ass to Snape?" Ron asked. "I mean, from what all my brothers say, he deserves it, but that's going a bit far."

Harry sighed. "I was hoping that giving me detention would purge some of that anger in him. I screwed up with the troll. I'm going to apologize. I won't tell him that any of you were there."

His friends looked at one another. "I don't know if that's a good idea," Neville began, "I think you could get expelled over this."

"I've got to do something to make up for it. That limp can't feel good." Harry rebutted. "Unfortunately, I have no idea what kind of gesture he would appreciate. My scar isn't being helpful either."

"Chocolate?" Ron guessed.

Harry sighed. "One: he's an adult. Two: I'm not trying to date him."

Neville looked a bit nauseous at the idea.

Hermione snorted. "Well, I'm glad you're trying to be responsible for your mess."

Harry shrugged. "I may be a bit mad, but I'm not irresponsible. How was he after I left?"

"He looked furious for a few minutes afterward, but then he just sort of went zen-like," Ron explained. "I think I heard him mutter something about 'mucking out the owlry midden'."

Harry winced. "Shit."

"Language," Hermione snapped.

"Feces, then," Harry modified, "I don't think that's been used as a detention in decades."

Light bulbs winked on, figuratively, above his friends' heads. "I always wondered how the owlry stayed clean," Hermione pondered, "I mean, there's a couple hundred large birds in there."

Harry sighed again. "I'll figure something out."

••••••••••

McGonagall officially gave Harry his notice of detention after dinner. "This seems quite excessive for a potions accident, but Dumbledore over-ruled my objection. I don't know what is going on, but you need to keep your nose clean if you want to stay on the quidditch team."

Harry went through the motions, nodding and shaking his head as appropriate. Finally, his head of house seemed satisfied, and went on her way. Harry read his slip and cringed. It had been a lifetime ago since he had done that much manual cleaning. It looked like he was to clean most of the castle, starting in just half an hour. But first, he was to come to Dumbledore's office.

••••••••••

Harry walked into the office. Dumbledore and Snape were seated, drinking butterbeer. Neither were smiling. Harry walked forward and stood more or less 'at ease', never having learned to properly.

Dumbledore began. "Do you have anything you wish to say, Harry?"

The boy nodded. "I screwed up. On multiple levels. I would blame it on my brain issues, but ultimately, it doesn't matter why. I apologize for not communicating with you both about the troll, and for getting you injured, Professor."

Snape glared.

"Can you expand, Harry?"

Harry looked up with a grin and a twinkle in his eye, before suddenly sighing and frowning. Snape rolled his eyes. "You know what he means, Potter."

"I stopped myself, didn't I? … Last time around, the troll was a net benefit. Ron had been a berk, and insulted Hermione, who spent the rest of the day in the girls' loo, crying. When Quirrell-Mort ran in babbling about the troll, I realized Hermione was in danger, and Ron and I set out to save her. We found her trapped in the loo, and the three of us barely saved the day. It was an experience that forever bonded us together as the 'golden trio'… That wasn't going to happen this time; I had already gathered Ron, Hermione, and Neville together. There was no organic way for us to go after it other than me to simply suggest it. It's not like it was dangerous, I could have disabled or killed it a dozen different ways if it looked like something was about to go wrong."

"And how would you explain that to your friends?" Dumbledore asked.

"Well, my first backup plan was to simply blow it's brains out and blame it on uncontrolled magic. I know a few spells that haven't even been invented yet, they wouldn't have known the difference."

"And yet you saw fit to lead it into Fluffy's room," Snape stated.

"I needed a way to get them thinking about the philosopher's stone. I had made some hints earlier, but if I sprang it on them suddenly, it would have been too obvious, especially for Hermione. I can only blame so much stuff on my 'psychic scar'."

Severus groaned.

"It's my fault for not properly communicating with you both. I thought a jaunty wink when you both looked at me was enough to convey that things were fine. But you both went and behaved like responsible adults- go figure."

Dumbledore snorted.

"Look, as long as you've put it in the mirror of Erised, he can't get the stone."

"He can't get it anyway Harry, I've sent it back to Flamel for now."

Harry blinked. "Then why were you even checking on it?"

"I thought you were supposed to have learnt subterfuge in the future, Potter," Snape sneered derisively. "I have to keep up appearances."

Harry groaned in frustration. "The point of coming back from the future was that we already have all the intel we need. You are free! You don't need to be a spy any longer!"

Snape laughed bitterly. "I'll believe it when his shattered soul finally shuffles off this mortal coil. Until then, I must be ready to be at his side in case we screw up."

The two glared at each other, realizing they had hit an impasse.

Harry backed down. "Fine. You're right. Until we have all his bits and bobs, we can't rest easy. But I do bring a gift."

"Oh?" Snape asked, stone-faced.

"In the future, Riddle needed competent people to teach the DADA position. He had you and Dolohov switch positions between headmaster and DADA professor each year. Apparently, even he couldn't destroy the curse. Every year, on the second day of term, there would be an official announcement that the current professor was retiring at the end of term. This went on for years."

Snape looked over to Dumbledore, eyes wide. "We'll discuss this privately, Severus. In the meantime, I think perhaps in light of what Harry has disclosed, the punishment you've planned is a bit extreme."

Snape growled.

Harry spoke up. "I'm not going to argue that point, but I think it would be best if I at least muck out the owlry trap. You know, keep up appearances."

Snape looked at Harry suspiciously. "What are you planning?"

Harry shrugged. "Honestly, it's nothing worse than some of the crap the Dursleys made me do the first time round. And you need to work some of your anger off; maybe you'll feel better if you see me up to my elbows in owl droppings."

"That will take at most two evenings. I've given him detention for a week."

"Why don't we do some dueling in the room of requirement? We can shoot at one another, show off a few personal spells, and then have the old-timer over there whip both our butts."

"You think you can handle me?" Snape asked venomously.

"In this body? No. In an official duel, I could last about 30 seconds after you got serious… If we were meeting on the battlefield… Hard to say. Of course, if I used _that_ right away, I would win, but it's so stupid…"

"What's _That_?" Dumbledore asked, already wincing in order to save time.

Harry looked sheepish. "Er, it's a really bad idea that I made into a trump card. You know how Fiendfyre was nearly added to the list of Unforgivables, on the basis of its destructive power and resistance to going out?"

Dumbledore opened a drawer. "I can tell I'm going to need a lemon drop."

Snape added, "It doesn't help that the stuff contains malicious spirits from the nether-plane. From what little literature there is on it, I suspect it's a phenomenon related to the daemons you spoke of."

Harry blinked, "That explains a lot, actually." He shook his head, before shifting his weight back and forth, from one foot to the other. "So, um, basically, you conjure a teensy-weensy bit of antimatter in front of a target's face, ideally at a great distance from your own face, and then spend the next week in the infirmary getting treated for radiation burns, and cleaning the battlefield of human salsa. Um, this obviously doesn't leave this room."

Silence filled the room.

"You know, as Supreme Mugwump, part of my duty is to find wizards and witches with ideas such as that, and then obliviate them with extreme prejudice."

Harry blinked. "Wha- Seriously?"

"I have rarely been more serious in my life, Harry. You previously mentioned how silly it was that most students aspired to nothing more than… what was it, 'homing snowballs and bra opening charms' or some such. While I agree in general, the opposite is so much more alarming. Particularly 'imaginative' uses of magic tend to result with, for example, the eruption of Krakatoa, or the sinking of Atlantis. Greater Magics."

"Or people's consciousness traveling back through time," added Snape dryly.

"Woah woah woah; Atlantis was real?" Harry asked.

The two professors looked at each other.

"Harry, what exactly does Binns teach in history class?"

"You're the Headmaster! Isn't it your job to know these things?!"

"Sadly, my various titles leave me less time to spend on the school than it deserves. I only do it all because things would be worse if I resigned from any of my posts. Professor Binns is… well, technically haunting the room," Albus explained sheepishly. "Most everyone is able to pass the History OWL, and due to some lost paperwork, we still receive funding to pay for his salary, which goes towards quite a few expenditures that I doubt we could get by the Board of Governors, seeing as Lucius has a number of them in his pocket."

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. "Mostly he drones on about various goblin wars. Do you know if he fought in one, or something? He's obsessed. Anyway, it doesn't matter, everyone besides Hermione falls asleep within 5 minutes or uses the class to catch up on homework for other classes. If it wasn't for that reliable hour and a half of sleep in the afternoon, I probably would have passed out during lunch most days last time around."

Snape quietly chuckled to himself, sipping his drink; Albus meanwhile was rubbing his face with his hand and grimacing. Eventually he seemed to have wallowed enough. "If that is true, how do most of the students pass?"

"Merlin, this is breaking so many student oaths… alright, so, apparently, about... 60 years ago, the older Ravenclaw students got together and declared that Binns was academically unacceptable. There were some protests or something, but nothing was done-"

"Oh, yes, I think I remember that. I had just become transfiguration professor the year before."

"Yes, well, from everything I've ever learned about headmaster Dippet, he was only marginally more proficient at his job than Fudge is at his."

Snape snorted, and Dumbledore cut in, "He was not as bad as that, but he was far from the best headmaster the school has seen."

Harry continued, "So the protests were ignored. And then, the Ravenclaws got down to the business of making sure people could pass. The sixth year Ravenclaw prefects are inducted into the practice, and learn from the seventh years as they distribute the OWL test that gets used every year to the fifth years. They decided that anyone who wanted to get a NEWT in the subject would have to work it out themselves."

"He uses the same test every year?"

"There's no oversight. He's a ghost. A ghost of a particularly dull man. I've seen people throw parchment through him without him noticing."

"Severus, I do not mean to scapegoat you, but did it never occur to bring this up at a staff meeting?"

Snape had been staring into space, shaking his head in what seemed to be amused disgust at the whole situation. "No sir, I didn't take a NEWT in history, and my fifth year we had been told that the seventh year prefect had stolen the test, and to keep quiet about it. It never occurred to me that it was anything other than a singular event."

"Naturally. The whole plot required that no one catch on until Binns was gone, since the establishment seemed fine with the status quo. The Slytherins were told that the test had been 'acquired', likewise the Gryffindors, though the story was adapted to more of an epic tale of schoolyard bravery which culminated with snatching the test by the skin of one's teeth. The Hufflepuffs have the tendency to rely upon one another, so when an older year would appear with a 'golden study guide', no questions were asked. Apparently, the hardest house to deal with was the Ravenclaws themselves, ironically. My informant never would go into details about that."

Dumbledore had pulled out a bowl of lemon drops sometime in the middle of the explanation, and was popping one into his mouth every ten seconds or so.

"This will require a great deal of effort to fix. Simply replacing Binns is not sufficient, though it will be necessary, of course. OWLs are the culmination of five years of instruction, and though the first and possibly second years have enough time to be taught properly, the third through fifth years can't possibly be brought up to speed."

Snape spoke up, "It seems that the fifth year class is lost to us. All we can do is allow it to continue one last year and make changes over the summer. Perhaps we can make history a required subject for sixth and seventh years?"

"What about history NEWT takers?" Albus inquired.

"That would require there to be students interested in taking NEWT history. Although I've not kept an eye on it, I can't recall any in the last seven years," the potions master replied.

Harry broke into the conversation, "As I have no expertise in formal education, perhaps I could be dismissed, and you could call a staff meeting?"

Albus turned to him, "A sound plan. Turn up at the owlery tomorrow, as we'll all be rather too busy to oversee your detention tonight."

Harry nodded and left.

••••••••••

Harry entered the common room and was immediately questioned by his friends.

"That was rather quick, wasn't it?" Neville asked.

Harry shrugged, "Apparently something more important has come up unexpectedly, and no one is available to supervise my detention. It's merely been postponed, although I think the nature may change in part as well."

" _Something_? Your scar not feeling talkative?" Ron joked.

"I've never claimed it was perfect. In fact, I think I've argued the opposite on many occasions. I overheard something about professor Binns, and the quality of his teaching, but why they should take issue with it now..." He shrugged again.

Hermione leapt off the sofa at this news. "Did you? That's wonderful! Binns is not conducive to a good learning environment in any way! I hope we only have to deal with him for this year."

Harry was somewhat taken aback, not expecting his friend to be so disparaging of an authority figure so quickly. "Well, it's just another of those wizarding traditions I'm sure. Like their failure to formally teach reading, writing, arithmetic, home economics, or anything besides wand waving which might prepare us for actually entering the world."

Hermione looked stunned. She turned to the other two boys, "Didn't you both go to a school before this?"

Ron and Neville seemed confused. "I was tutored, grudgingly," Neville replied.

"My family is all home-taught," Ron explained.

Hermione seemed to collapse back onto the sofa, wide-eyed.

"Are you alright, Hermione?"

"Back in the kitchens," she began, "I thought you were crazy; but this society really is a century or more behind, isn't it?"

"I'm afraid this is just the tip of the iceberg, Hermione. You've said you read several wizarding history books before arriving... Take off your rose-tinted glasses and process them in conjunction with what you know of muggle history. And you haven't even been exposed to the bigotry yet. As a first generation witch, you'll be lucky if you get any sort of job in magical England."

The girl sat and thought, and her frown slowly was matched by Neville, and even Ron, both of whom had realized by now that Hermione was much smarter than them, and had gotten into the habit of following either her, or Harry's scar's, lead on matters they didn't have a strong opinion on.

Hermione looked over and stared into Harry's eyes. "Were you serious about what you said in the kitchens?"

"Other than some slight jests to set you all at ease, I was completely serious," he answered, managing to restrain himself from the requisite godfather joke.

Hermione looked around the common room. "Could we retire to the corner to discuss this further?"

Harry nodded, and the pair, followed shortly by Ron and Neville, made their way to the mentioned corner.

The students sat on the floor, and Harry pulled out his wand and cast a few privacy spells. The other three looked meaningfully at one another at this, before Hermione started.

"You're keeping things from us Harry. Important things," Hermione started.

Harry nodded, a slight frown evident. _"If this is how the headmaster felt dealing with me..."_ "That is true. I don't do it lightly, nor do I enjoy it. We are about to live in interesting times. Until you learn Occlumency..." He trailed off.

"What is it?" Ron asked.

Harry held up his hand and thought. At this point, Voldemort still didn't take him seriously, let alone his friends. Dumbledore and Snape were both in on things, and Pettigrew was out of the picture. Who exactly was going to read their thoughts for the next few years?

"... I was planning on telling you everything as soon as you could keep up an adequate Occlumency barrier, but it occurs to me that having something to guard may get better results. And really, there's not that much risk now... Look, I'll have to run this past Dumbledore, but maybe I can share everything."

The three first-years looked at each other. "I suppose some of this will make sense once you explain things?" Neville asked.

Harry sighed, "Hopefully. I understand you have questions, Hermione, could they wait one day? Things may make more sense with context."

The girl frowned, then reluctantly nodded.

The group returned to their usual positions, with Hermione reading, and Neville and Harry taking turns at losing to Ron at chess.

••••••••••

Early the next morning, Harry appeared Albus's office as if by magic; which, to be fair, had been fairly integral to the process.

"And what has you up so early, Harry?" asked Dumbledore, as the boy folded away his Cloak.

"Ah. Well, it occurred to me that for the next few years the opposition will be playing pretty weak, and that while I had planned on telling my friends over the summer what was going on, after they had learned at least some basic occlumency of course, that really, it would benefit them to know now in order to give them a good reason to learn occlumency. If you see what I mean."

"Do remember to breathe, Harry," Dumbledore sagely reminded. "I'm afraid I don't understand. This seems like a giant risk with little to recommend for it, yet you seem to think the opposite?"

"Yes sir. This year, the total number of Legilimens users in the castle are three and a half: yourself, Snape, Riddle but not professor dead-man-walking, and me- to a small extent… I suck at it even more since I came back. Next year, we should have clean sailing since I'll nip the diary problem right quick. And my third year should be pretty boring without notorious felon Sirius Black trying to break in.

"So that gives us a little over two years for them to learn Occlumency unimpeded. Hermione would learn it just because it's there to be learned, but Neville and especially Ron need a practical reason. Otherwise, it will just be a boring academic exercise."

Dumbledore nodded, "There is some truth in that. However, other than the speed that they learn Occlumency at, you haven't explained any of the benefits of this ploy. Considering that our whole house of cards could come down if Riddle decides to casually probe one of your friends, I should hope I'm missing something. What can your friends actually do with this knowledge?"

"You ask that having seen what they did last time with nothing?" Harry countered. "Also, Riddle is too weak to do anything yet, he'll need to eat more unicorn before he can even talk, let alone do any mind reading. Even then, from my memories of our first encounter he seemed to need eye contact as well.

"Since I don't plan on even letting them meet him face to… er, face, I think it's pretty safe. Also, you are thinking strategically, which I understand- you've been forced to ever since Grindelwald. But sir, I have to _live_ with these people. Hopefully for the next hundred years or more. I will lie, cheat, steal, kill, and manipulate when necessary to beat Riddle, but I think this is a case where the truth will do more good than harm."

Dumbledore sat in thought. After a long minute of silence, he finally asked, "And what of their childhood?"

Harry threw up his hands. "For fuck's sake, Albus! Have you not learned the lesson of my last go around? Your insistence that I have a childhood left Great Britain looking like hell-on-earth, made me risk global existence-failure, and necessitated my traveling through time! And you couldn't even be bothered to make my childhood happy, leaving me to my miserable Aunt and loathsome Uncle. Some people do not get the pleasure of having a happy childhood! I would gladly have given it up to not have to live through the madness that happened after the fall. If you feel so strongly about childhood, go to Africa and hand out filling meals or something! In the meantime, I'll be making sure that life as we know it can go on long enough for my generation to have children in the first place."

Dumbledore remind still, stoic as stone. "Harry… why didn't you share any of your memories from after 'the fall'?"

The boy winced. "I didn't want to burden anyone else with them… Yes, I'm aware of the irony of that. Perhaps that was a mistake. Do you want to see what we're really fighting for?"

"It will likely be for the best. Let me get a pensieve." He waved his wand, and a different pensieve than normal floated into the room. "As mine is still full of your show-and-tell, I convinced Flamel to let me borrow one or two extra, the man has dozens in order to organize centuries of thoughts."

"Convenient, I was hoping that after my detention tonight, I could show them some of what is to come. Good stuff mostly."

"Perhaps. Do you know what you want to show me?"

"Hmm… Well, this is a typical scavenging run to get supplies." Harry pulled out the thought with the end of his wand, and lay it in the bowl.

"Very well. I assume I'm to view it on my own?"

Harry shrugged, looking at the bowl with distaste. "It speaks for itself."

"Very well."

••••••••••

The headmaster seemed to return to consciousness. "That was… chilling."

"Quite. As I said, that was not uncommon. And it also explains why we invented things like anti-matter conjuring and megawatt laser spells."

"... In the past, I've always felt annoyed when people described Riddle as the most 'adjective' dark wizard ever," Dumbledore began. "We have long lifetimes, and there are still many alive who can recall Grindelwald and the second World War with ease... I see now, that however superior a wizard Grindelwald was to Riddle, he never had as much potential to wreak havoc on the world. Voldemort is truly a monster, the likes of which hasn't been seen since Vlad Tepes."

Harry spoke up. "I know that other than my first visit, I've been acting rather carefree, if not outright flippantly. I suppose I've been rather hypocritical in trying to enjoy my childhood. However, I want to make certain that you understand I realize all too well what is at stake here. If Riddle regains a stable body before we're ready, we will not be re-hashing the same battle you waged in the 80's. We can't afford to. I will hit hard, fast, and with little mercy against anyone who stands united with his banner. We refined a lot of the Order's techniques, and created a whole new bag of tricks of our own. I respect you greatly, Albus, and I'd never suggest you went easy on them last time, but you're too damn noble to fight them effectively."

Dumbledore nodded. "Moody often said as much. If he had as good a gift for the strategic as he does for the tactical, I would have let him lead from the beginning."

Harry winced. "Yeah, that was a lesson."

The old man raised an eyebrow.

"After you passed, Alastor took control of the Order temporarily. The man has more lives than a cat, but a leader he is not. I learned so much from him, but while he was busy taking out specific Death Eaters, Riddle completely out manoeuvred us... Not that anyone else at the time could have done better."

The pair sat in silence for a time. At last Dumbledore spoke up. "You may tell your friends, and use the pensieve, but I want to be present."

"... That's an odd request."

"Perhaps. And yet I must make it. I would go so far as to call it a demand, though I'm well aware that you could go right around me if you see fit."

"... It will make for an awkward atmosphere, but I suppose I can give you at least that. Do you expect to be an active participant, or an observer?"

"An observer, unless something goes wrong. Your friends are still students in my school, and are thus still my responsibility. They are children… if they react poorly…"

"Say no more. I understand."

"Right. Is that all?"

"Yes. I'll see you after my detention tonight."

••••••••••

The Owlery midden was an odd artifact, a leftover from times when not everyone was as strong with magic as the average witch or wizard was now. When Hogwarts was built, Helga pragmatically figured all of that bird manure shouldn't be vanished when it could be put to good use as fertilizer. So the midden was built to store vast amounts of, well... owl shit.

Currently, it was under the purview of the Groundsmaster, Hagrid, who used the help of house elves to direct it to Professor Sprout's green houses, mostly.

There was no practical reason to clean the midden, as it was a sealed section of Hogwarts that was almost impossible to get in or out of if you weren't a house elf. And even if someone did clean it, it would only last a few hours before the constant stream of owl droppings would befoul any effort at tidying it. For those reasons, and others, cleaning the middens had fallen out of favor as a method of punishment not long after caning, which, paradoxically, had happened much sooner than in muggle public schools.

None of this was going through Harry's mind as he stood knee-high in bird-guano, with only the application of a bubble-head charm standing between him and suffocating to death from the gasses. Even the bubble-head spell wasn't strong enough to keep out all the smell though, and Harry wondered if Snape had cast it weakly on purpose.

Snape and a house elf appeared suddenly with a pop, and Harry turned his head, continuing to scrub the eastern wall.

"That's enough for tonight, Potter," Snape announced. "It's time for your big meeting." He walked over, and the house elf grabbed the hem of both their robes and popped them out.

The three appeared in a large room, taken up largely by an oval table, that would not look out of place in an office boardroom, other than that the wood was likely to be centuries old.

Sitting around it, he saw the Headmaster, Ron, Hermione, and Neville, the last three of which seemed quite nervous.

"Clean him up, Sudsey," Severus directed.

Harry felt a tingle go over him in a wave of house-elf magic, and felt clean for the first time in hours.

Severus looked the boy over. "Right. I'm dismissing you from the remainder of your detention," he stated, before continuing on quietly, "We will cross wands as you suggested though, but we're busy for now arranging an exorcism…" He looked up at the students at the table. "Good luck."

Snape then turned and made his usual dramatic exit, "Detention just isn't fun if they don't cry…"

Ron gulped as the door shut.

Harry turned and faced his audience. "Merlin, Albus, could you two have made this any more melodramatic? Please tell me they gathered you discreetly." The last was directed at his friends.

He grabbed a chair, flipping it around and sitting on it backwards. "So. Let me tell you a story. Parts of it are horrible, parts are nice, but it doesn't have a happy ending… Yet."

Hermione looked like she was about to interrupt, but seemed to think better of it.

"A long, long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, a boy named Tom Riddle was born. His mother, a witch, was single, and destitute. She had been leading the heir of a well-to-do muggle family along with love potions, but got it into her daft head that if she stopped, he would continue to love her. He was, rather understandably, upset, to say the least. The mother died shortly after childbirth, leaving Tom Riddle to the warm, loving embrace of the muggle orphanage system. Let's just say that the orphanage system in place at the time was, while not Dickensian, um," he looked at Ron and Neville. "That is to say, horrible, but that it left a deep impression on Tom.

"Skipping forward, Tom had been admitted into Hogwarts, as he was not only a wizard, but a remarkably gifted one. In fact, he could trace his lineage through his mother all the way back to Slytherin himself. Unfortunately, Tom liked to dabble in the dark arts. Simplifying things greatly, Tom practiced certain rituals that gave him phylacteries, much like a the mythical lich. He was charismatic, and built a group of followers, that, as you probably have guessed by now, became known as Death Eaters."

His friends actually winced at this, having been quite antsy during the whole monologue.

"At some point, Riddle received word of a prophecy. The second kind I mentioned, that are always true, but are still worthless. There was going to be a boy born at a certain time, who met certain criteria. As it turned out, there were two such lucky kids; let's call them Barry and, um… Mehlville?" He paused, as much for Neville's quiet gasp as for having lost his flow.

"A follower of Riddle's overheard a bit of this prophecy, and passed it on. Riddle accurately narrowed the two kids down to Barry and Mehlville as well. For whatever reason, Riddle decided to attack Barry's family. Maybe he was planning on attacking Mehlville afterward, or… well, only Riddle knows for sure, perhaps he flipped a coin.

"Now Barry's father had caught wind that Riddle wanted them dead, because of a wise old fossil known as Bumblebore. So they hid themselves with a powerful spell known as the fidelius. The spell has a drawback though, in that someone that doesn't spend most of their time inside the area under the fidelius must 'keep the secret', aka hold the key to finding the hidden area. Barry's parents had three best friends from Hogwarts, and trusted… Beerius? Heh, fitting... with his life, but everyone knew this. One of his other friends, Pettigrew, convinced him and Beerius that he would be the safer option because he wouldn't be the expected choice. Unfortunately, Pettigrew was a Death Eater, and immediately told Riddle the secret key.

"The rest is more or less known to the general public, and of course I'm skipping quite a bit. But if you've been paying attention, you might be asking how many phylacteries Riddle had left, if he had been performing those dark rituals.

"Barry thinks… I'm pretty certain Riddle has six phylacteries left right now, and at some point I'll explain why. But the story isn't over yet, we're just getting to the interesting part!

"Harry grew up, and eventually went to Hogwarts and met a bunch of friends, and learned about magic. Every year, something or other would try and kill Harry, usually Riddle, or one of his minions, until Harry's fourth year, when Riddle pulled a ridiculous gambit that ended up with him regaining a stable body, notable, since before that point, he was either a spirit, or he possessed people.

"Eventually, Bumblebore was killed, and things went... poorly from there. I had never been given any training for dealing with dark wizards, and because of the prophecy, I'm the only one who can actually kill Riddle for good.

"To make a long story slightly less long, things got so bad Harry and his friends gave up any hope of winning, and sent Harry's memories back in time to before he went to school.

"The end. Kinda."

…

…

…

"So does that mean your scar isn't psychic?" Neville asked.

Harry chuckled. "Correct."

"So… you're sort of both John Connor **and** Kyle Reese?"

"Um, other than not being my own Dad, I guess? Sure, 'Mione."

Ron still looked like his head hurt, but managed to ask the question Harry had been expecting. "So if you're from the future, you already knew us? Is that why you've been acting kind of big-brothery?"

"Well, yes, basically. The two of you, and a few years later Neville as well, were my best friends. I'd have done anything for any of you, and vice-versa. I know this is kind of awkward to say the least, but I couldn't live with myself if I didn't try and be friends with you all again."

"So I notice Draco isn't here," Hermione probed.

"And there are several good reasons why. Amongst them, his father is Riddle's right hand man, last time he was a complete tosser, and… well, I think that's sufficient. I made friends with him mostly on a whim to see if he could be salvaged."

"So how old are you?" Neville asked.

"That's a bit tricky. In some ways I'm 12 of course, in others I'm either 34, a little over 36, or somewhere in between. Time travel magic is not easy, nor entirely safe. I'm not the same as I was when I left. I have a kids body, so in many ways, I am a kid with someone else's memory. I'm not an adult 'acting' or pretending to be friends with you, I really am 12… mostly. If I want to be serious, I have to… heh… um, use Occlumency. So, to sum up, it's complicated."

"Apparently," Neville responded dryly.

"Why are you telling us now?"

"Well, _you_ would learn Occlumency just because, Hermione. But I realized that it would take a real impetus to get Ron, and to some extent Neville, to study it diligently. Also, I really didn't want to hide this from any of you for any longer than I had to. I mean, I imagine this is kind of awkward, right?"

Enthusiastic nodding took place.

"Well, I think it would be a heck of a lot worse if I waited a few years, wouldn't it?"

"... Ok, yes, it would. Are you going to tell us about the future?"

"Some of it, sure! That's why I came back after all. I'm not sharing anything that happened after my sixth year right now, as it's bloody depressing, and I'm hopeful that everything will be resolved by then. I'm also not giving out lottery numbers or 'lucky horses'. I do have a few suggestions as far as investment opportunities go though. In a few years you will likely to be tempted to ask me to help steer you towards the 'love of your life' or some such…" Harry paused to chuckle at the horrified look on Ron's face, "Sorry, can't help you there, for multiple reasons. There's other stuff I won't share, but I've already been giving out loads of things via my scar."

After another pause, Hermione spoke up again. "So how does our talk about the Ashes of the Phoenix intersect with all of this?"

"Ah! Good question! Now would be a good time to employ the 'don't think about elephants' technique, by the way. We will speak of that back in the common room I think," Harry let out with slightly nervous energy. Dumbledore had perked up at that last question, and his friends were now all staring directly at Harry, who had sat at the opposite end of the Headmaster.

"Harry, why are you being evasive?"

"Because I'm not sure that your thinking on this topic would be entirely rational, and sometimes it's better to ask forgiveness. It has nothing to do with defeating Riddle, so I would ask for privacy on this."

"And yet I find myself quite intrigued, Harry. I wasn't expecting you to have so many side projects."

"Perhaps after Riddle is taken care of, we can discuss it. Until then, it's a completely moot point, and I'm worried discussion of it might create tension we can ill afford."

"... That is not as reassuring as I had hoped, but I suppose it will do for now. Now, I think you wanted to share some of your memories?"

Harry nodded, and smiled as a pensieve floated in through the doorway in response to the older man's wand.

"This one can accept up to 10 people at a time, so you should have no problems. Can I trust you to be responsible?"

Harry thought a moment, then shrugged. At the look on Albus's face he chuckled, "Go on, you must have more important stuff to do, and you know I'd never hurt them."

The supreme mugwump nodded, and stood up. As he left the room, he turned. "We often hurt the ones we love." Then he was gone.

"... Yes, well, you would know all about that, wouldn't you?" Harry turned back to face his friends, who were staring at the odd bowl in front of them with a fair deal of anxiety and curiosity. "He's a great man, but by Merlin, does he love the sound of his own voice. Ugh, I think it has rubbed off on me too."

"Harry…" Hermione started before stopping.

"No one is perfect, Hermione. If they appear to be, you don't know them very well. You can write that in a book if you like."

She snorted and turned her attention back to the pensieve.

"So we're going to see your memories? Is that something to do with this occlumency stuff?" Neville asked, eyeing the bowl.

"Yes, and no. Although occlumency can help sort your memories, it's not needed to use a pensieve. Geez, now that we're here, I'm not sure what to show you. Most of the exciting stuff was kind of terrifying to actually live through. Oh, um, Neville mate… I have to confess, we weren't that close of friends until many years down the line."

Neville fidgeted. "That's okay Harry, I get it, I'm kind of-"

"No, you don't get it." Harry interrupted. "You are a really great guy Neville, but because of the petty mindedness and bigotry of your family, it took you years to shake off the conditioning your aunts and uncles weighed you down with last time. Look, if you can't believe in yourself yet, believe in me who believes in you." Harry conjured an oversized pair of sharp sunglasses and put them on the boy. "You will do the impossible and see the invisible."

Neville blinked, looking nervous from the passionate speech, yet, with the accessory, still cool. Finally he nodded. "Alright Harry, if you say so."

Harry sighed, "We'll work on it." He walked over to the pensieve and explained what was going to happen as he pulled substantiated memories from his ear. "I thought I'd start out with some events that already happened this year so that you all can compare, then move on to some things that will-have-had happened."

••••••••••

"Remind me again why you're making friends with Draco?" Neville asked. They had all just returned to the real world, having seen the 'highlights' of various adventures.

"Because I don't want to have to put up with him acting like that a second time." Harry explained. "Gods, he was _such_ a berk. If he was like that this time around, I don't know if I could stop myself from doing something I'd regret."

"Ooh, like having him wake up dangling from a rope, naked, from the ceiling of the great hall, just in time for breakfast?" Ron asked, clearly picturing the scene.

"More like have him wake up in an airtight, safety-reinforced viewing cage in the middle of Aragog's nest, sans wand for an hour or two."

His three companions looked shocked, Ron actually turning slightly green.

Harry shrugged. "Single trial learning. It only works with sufficient trauma. And I told you I'd regret it… Sooner or later."

His companions shook that off, and Harry started stuffing his memories back into his head.

Ron suddenly looked ill, "I can't believe we had a wizard in our house for over a decade living as our pet rat."

Hermione nodded. "That's creepy. I'm glad you were able to catch him, Harry."

He shrugged. "It wasn't hard since he didn't expect anything. Sorry I couldn't explain it at the time, Ron."

"Not at all. I'm just glad he's gone now. It's not like he was a good pet anyway."

Harry snorted, "So, I also have some private messages from the future you to the you of now. I have them sort of partitioned away from my normal memories, so I don't really know what they say. We also didn't really expect I'd be telling you all this so early, so I'm not sure that it's a good idea, really…"

Ron spoke up, "Could you try and say that in English please?"

Harry's eyebrow rose. "Oh. Ok, so it happened like this. We knew for months that I was going to be sent back in time. Someone had the bright idea that everyone still al… that everyone could sort of send a message back to themselves, via me. But most people were rather shy about telling me these really personal things, so Hermione whipped up a spell that sort of sealed the memories away from me. I listened to it all, but I don't recall what happened anymore. But I wasn't really supposed to give these out until everyone was in their teens, at least."

"Then why'd you bring it up?" Ron asked.

Harry sighed, "Because I'm trying to be transparent, and not be Bumblebore two point oh. If you'd like, I can keep unpleasant information away from you. It would be much easier on my part, I assure you."

"Don't patronize us Harry," Hermione said curtly.

Harry frowned. "Sorry. I'm having some coming to grips issues with this as well. I… I've lived most of my life with all of you, but you guys barely know me. I know this is weird for you, but trust me, this isn't easy for me either..." He paused, unsure of what to say.

"Yes, well. At least I can appreciate the troll debacle now," Hermione said.

Harry grinned, and Ron looked sheepish. "Yeah. I couldn't let that go by." He gripped Neville around the shoulder, "Don't you feel lucky to be included in such a well thought out and planned campaign as this?"

Neville looked unsure, and Harry slapped him on the back. "I'm joking. You belong here. You always did. With this head start, if I'm not careful, in a year or two you'll have usurped my position as chosen one, and I'll watch you fly off into the sunset on the back of a dragon with a chest of gold and a dozen pretty girls feeding you grapes."

Neville blushed. "It's a nice picture, but from what you've shown me, chosen one is a job position that's more trouble than it's worth."

"Darn, you're smart too. Damn straight it is. Oh well, I'll have to find someone else. Ron, how does a chest of gold and a harem sound to you?"

"Would I have to meet Aragog this time?"

"As a proper chosen one? Fraid so, chum."

"Pass."

"Before you ask, Harry, I'm not into harems." Hermione interrupted.

"Oh really? You're in the east wing of your library, and Tom Baker, Leonard Nimoy, William Shatner, and Carl Sagan, all in their prime, are fetching you books and snacks. Nimoy and Shatner are only wearing the trousers to their uniforms because the top halves got damaged in the fencing session they had earlier for your enjoyment."

Hermione started turning pink, her eyes unfocused.

"What is she… do I want to know?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged, grinning. "Hard to say. Time will tell."

Ron opened his mouth, then frowned in thought, and shut it again.

Neville watched with fascination, "I think you broke her, Harry."

"Whoops. And this is why it's probably not a good idea to give you those messages yet. I don't know what's in them, but you all may not be ready for them yet."

Hermione seemed to be snapping out of it. "I'm going to hurt you, Harry. That's not fair!"

"What?"

"Using future knowledge secrets against me like that!"

"Oh please Hermione, I just made that up on the spot."

Hermione started stomping towards him, vengeance written over her face.

"Gosh, how did I ever miss this whole tsundere side of yo-" Harry was interrupted by Hermione grabbing his head and pulling him into a noogie position.

"Ow! Tmph smamph! Yuh brumph," Harry mumbled into her armpit as she ran her knuckles over his head.

Hermione finally let him go, but still glared at him.

' _Clearly I shouldn't have shown her when she punched Draco.'_

"Do I have to teach this lesson to either of you now?" Hermione asked Ron and Neville.

The pair shook their heads. "You do that pretty well for being a single child," Ron commented.

Harry gnawed on his tongue, dying to make a dozen quips about whips and/or spiky heels, but kept reminding himself that his friends were still pre-teens. He smiled and sub-vocalized them to himself- perhaps he would show this memory to her someday. Or maybe show Ron the memory of the look of glee on his face when he imagined Draco dangling naked in the great hall.

"Right then." She sat down. "Um, where were we?"

Harry shrugged and rubbed his head. "There's a ton more to go over, but it's late, and you all probably have a lot to chew over. I'm going to start teaching you all occlumency soon. I've shown you how we beat the traps to get to the stone last time. I'd like to ask for volunteers to help me go down there again. Sort of give you a taste of what to expect."

His friends looked anxious. "He's… Voldemort, Harry," Ron said, wincing. "We're twelve."

Harry shook his head. "I don't want you to _meet_ the pillock. Just go through the gauntlet with me. Practice. We are all about to live in interesting times. If things go poorly, you _will_ need the experience. One of the reasons I time traveled was because too many friends of mine were dead."

The silence was broken by Ron. "Fine. I think I can do a better game than I did then, especially having seen it play once. I want a rematch."

"I want to see that specimen of Devil's Snare in person," Neville admitted. "What I could see from the memory was remarkable."

Hermione looked at the others. Eventually she growled. "Fine then. I guess you'll need a chaperone, even if you know which potion to use."

"I'll always need a chaperone, 'Mione," Harry grinned. "You could also headlock Quirell into submission."

She rolled her eyes and snorted.

"Alright. Any further questions?" Harry asked. "Then let's get back to the dorms."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9 :** _ **In Which a Boy Enters the Girl's Loo, Relations are Strained, and Quidditch is Played.**_

They had all returned, but after a half hour of restless shifting in bed, Harry started roaming the halls under his Cloak.

"Ah, just like the good old days, when all I had to worry about were deadly tournaments, or Draco's next shenanigan. I suppose I had girl issues for a couple of years as well."

The boy wandered aimlessly; in a way, less substantial than the castle's ghosts.

He found himself in front of a particular door, and came back to reality. "Oh? Really? Hmph."

Harry swung open the door, pulled off his cloak, and walked into the girl's lavatory.

He walked over to _that_ spot, turned, and sat down. He leaned back, and his head softly bumped against the spot that could, with a precise bit of hissing, reveal a passage to Slytherin's chamber.

"Introspection doesn't suit me. Why am I always so drawn to it?"

"How would I know? Are you lost, _boy_?"

Harry looked over at Myrtle. She was halfway out of a sink tap. "Oh, hello. Sorry, I didn't realize you were here."

"You must be a firsty. Hasn't everybody been warned to stay away from depressing old Myrtle's bathroom?"

"Can't say as I have. My name's Harry. And who do I have the pleasure of meeting?"

Myrtle blinked, not quite used to this reaction. "I'm Myrtle... The ghost. Hence my being inside a sink."

"Oh. I see. You don't seem terribly depressing or old at the moment, or I might have put it together."

"You're odd."

"I've had practice."

"Wait, you're that Potter kid, aren't you?"

Harry became interested in the conversation for the first time. "Er, yes. Mind me asking how you know of me?"

"I haven't been dead that long. I still keep up to date on the really important news," Myrtle explained. "Not like the Bloody Baron. I doubt he knows which century it is."

"Ah."

"Plus, you took care of Him, so…"

"Oh. That. I wish I could say it was intentional, but you know, baby at the time."

"Yes. Well, still, we all really owe you."

Harry looked at the ghost of the girl. ' _Oh. That would explain a lot about her fascination with me. Tom did kill her… and I killed him… kinda.'_

"Um, thanks."

"So… even if you didn't know it was mine, you did notice this was the girl's lavatory, right? What are you doing here? You're a little young to be up to that kind of mischief…"

Harry laughed. "No no, I just have a lot on my mind. I decided to get out of the hall before I walked straight into Filch, and I honestly didn't notice it was the girls' until I was already inside. By that point, I figured it didn't really matter at this time of the morning."

Myrtle floated out of the tap and 'sat' next to Harry. "Ironic. This room is rarely quiet. You caught me napping, so to speak… Sickle for your thoughts?"

Harry shrugged, and started sharing some of the woes and troubles that were bothering him… or at least had been the first time he had been a first year. They all seemed petty and unimportant now that he had perspective.

Myrtle nodded along. When he stopped, she waited a minute before replying. "It gets better. This school is pretty nice. Unless you get killed. That can suck. But you probably won't have that happen to you, it's pretty rare."

"You'd be surprised! … Or maybe not," Harry corrected himself after half a moment of thought.

"You don't know the half of it. I wouldn't have even been here to die if it hadn't been that time of the month," the ghost grumbled to herself.

Harry looked over. "Oh. Wow, that's… Sorry."

Myrtle's head shot up in surprise. "Oh, I didn't think you were old enough to… well... I guess I can't die of embarrassment." Harry got the impression she was blushing, which looked peculiar on a ghost.

"Sorry. I won't tell anyone if you don't tell anyone I was wandering around your bathroom late at night," Harry held out his hand.

Myrtle chuckled. "Deal. Can't shake on it though," she said, poking her index finger through his hand.

It was Harry's turn to look chagrined. "Er, right." He yawned. "Thanks for listening. I probably ought to get back."

"Sure… You can come back if you want. To talk, or whatever."

Harry looked over his shoulder as he reached for the door. "Oh. Ok, I'll take you up on that sometime."

"Good."

"Good night Myrtle."

••••••••••

Harry pondered on the encounter as he fluffed his pillow. Myrtle had always been one of the more relatable ghosts in the castle, most likely since she was the most recently deceased of the bunch, but even after the whole death day party he'd never really gotten to know her that well.

He mentally shrugged. If he could be friends with Draco, Myrtle wouldn't be that much of a stretch.

••••••••••

Relations were strained between Harry and his three 'younger' friends for some time. Sometimes in the middle of a conversation they would freeze, conscious that they were technically in the presence of an adult. Sort of.

Then there was The Incident.

"Visualization, visualization, visualization! No matter how well you pronounce the spell or wave your wand, if you can't picture both the target and the goal, your transfiguration will fall short or simply fail altogether," McGonagall lectured.

"Of course you aren't going to need to turn a beetle into a button, or a chair into a milk churn in daily life. But the more you practice visualizing all sorts of objects turning into one another, the easier it will become when you need to actually use the skill for something practical."

It was the very next day after Harry had shared his secret, and Seamus had commented on the pointlessness of turning a thimble into a gaming die slightly too loud. The transfiguration mistress was quick to correct the notion.

"Transfiguration is one of the most versatile schools of magic. Need to dig a hole or cut a rope? Grab a stick off the ground and turn it into a spade or knife. Certainly, you could use a cutting spell or a digging spell, but do you _know_ a digging spell? I don't, though I imagine Professor Sprout does."

As usual, Hermione was making the most progress. McGonagall was walking around the room, checking progress as usual and approached their group.

"Good work as usual, Hermione. I see you've gone for plastic?"

Hermione blinked. "Oh. Um, yes ma'am, I've never used any other type."

The professor patted her on the shoulder, "That's fine. Visualization. Once you're finished with the plastic die, try keeping it the same shape but making it wooden, or stone. You've already passed the assignment though.

"Good shape Ronald. Try the pips next. Do one face at a time, starting with the one pip. Look at the model if you need to. I know you have difficulty with materials, don't worry, everyone is different. It took me until my owls before I could make a proper quill feather, and I still have trouble with complex fibers to this day.

"Oh, lovely Neville! Straighten those corners up a bit, it's drooping. Otherwise quite good."

They could hear her try to mask a deep breath before she turned to Harry. She looked at his assignment. In front of him was a completely wooden thimble with pip groupings evenly spaced around it, even going on the inside.

"I see you're having shape issues today Harry."

He frowned and scratched his head. "Apparently. Nothing's caught fire so far though."

Minerva let out a little sigh and nodded. "I don't suppose you could make a metal, thimble textured die, could you?"

Harry blinked. "Oh, I get it. They'd average out to be correct. Lets see!"

He pointed his wand at the wooden thimble and narrowed his eyes. A few moments later there was a pinging noise, a small thud against the ceiling, then a small coin landed on his desk.

Harry blinked. "Huh. I didn't think coins could land on their edge… Does anyone know what a 'peso' is, or how much it's worth?"

McGonagall sighed again, and walked away. Harry could barely hear her mumble "Dice and coins… gambling? Heads or tails… probability? How could he make that strong of a mental connection withou-" before she moved too far to hear.

"Wicked!" Exclaimed Dean. "Too bad it'll change back soon, or else you could spend it. Go on, flip it. I call eagle and snake."

"Eh, sure." Harry flipped it, and it landed on the desk on it's edge again.

"Ok, that's weird," Harry declared, eying the coin suspiciously.

Neville tapped Harry's shoulder, "Um, Harry…" he pointed at Hermione.

'Geez, she could out-glare a basilisk right now,' Harry thought. "Yes, 'Mione? How have I offended you this time?"

"You _cheater."_

Harry blinked. "Huh?"

Hermione looked around. She was getting a few looks from the Ravenclaws, though the Gryffindors were used to her occasionally getting mad at Harry's hijinx.

She scribbled a note down and passed it.

 _*You know the whole curriculum! You graduated! And you're screwing up on purpose!*_

Harry read the note and groaned. This was going to happen eventually, but he had hoped it might wait a few weeks. At least not the very first day…

He took his wand and pointed it at the scrap of paper. A few seconds later he passed it back.

 _*Please try to see the big picture Hermione. I'm trying to save the world. I promise to help you study for OWLS and NEWTS*_

Hermione read the note, then watched the words disappear moments after she finished. She scowled, and scribbled furiously again.

 _*Oh, you will. And you'll be teaching me how you did that, and other things as well! And why are you sabotaging your schoolwork?*_

The paper passed hands. Harry sighed, then the paper went back again.

 _*I want my enemies to underestimate me. Also, remember how this is all a few centuries behind? All that actually matters is your OWL and NEWT exams. Nothing else matters. AT ALL. The only thing that determines passing the grade is the end of year exam. House points and class grades are all completely pointless. All things that need reform via my 50 year plan.*_

Hermione read the paper, and suddenly it was scrunched into a ball.

The girl grit her teeth and flattened it out again.

 _*The Ashes of the Phoenix, huh? I'm in. We're still in need of a talk.*_

Harry snorted. Trust Hermione to be incensed into revolution by education reform.

It occurred to him that he really shouldn't have shown her the memory of her hitting Malfoy. At this rate she'd be wrestling hippogriffs and out-dueling Moody before she graduated. He mentally chuckled, and shook his head free of the thought, turning back to his peso. He really ought to make it into a metal, thimble-textured die. His teacher had asked so nicely...

••••••••••

It had already turned bitter cold, being November, and the quidditch season was about to start. Harry had been practicing, but mostly in secret, certainly not during the official team practice time. He hadn't actually practiced with the team yet due to Oliver Woods' paranoia. He was afraid the other teams would steal Harry's mojo by looking at him, or something. When Oliver had seen what he had to work with, he'd very nearly cried tears of joy. And Harry was still holding back a fair bit.

Honestly, he didn't care. Flying was the one skill he was completely proud of. Yes, he was naturally talented at it, but he didn't stop there. After many years, he was skilled as well. And it wasn't a mark of his being fate's bitch, or an acquired characteristic like his hissing talent, _Harry was good at flying_. He owned that quality.

Moreover, _he was the best at flying._ And he was going to enjoy proving it shortly.

Meanwhile, classes were more of an exercise in creative ways to mess up without actually driving his teachers to drink. There had been subtle progress on the Professor Binns side of things, a few teachers had sat in during his lectures, but it seemed like nothing would actually happen until this summer.

The last week or so since he had shared the truth with his friends had been a bit rough, but they seemed to accept it. He had to give Hermione an autographed copy of _A Brief History of Time_ and show her several spells from ahead in the curriculum to get back in her good graces, but it was all worth it. He had stopped in and spoken with Myrtle a few times late at night as well.

It was game day, and as Harry ate up, he mused at the vast difference from the vanilla timeline. He was excited, and still a bit anxious, but now before a game (or more often, a big fight) he was hungry. You never knew if that extra few grams of carbohydrates would save your life.

"Aren't you even the least bit nervous Harry?" Hermione asked.

"For the last time, yes. I just don't show it in the ways you expect."

"Well sorry for caring! Maybe I'll just let him buck you off your broom this time."

"Oh come on, don't be like that. I need your support for morale. And more importantly, I need you to set off those fireworks if he starts on my broom."

"If she won't, I promise I will," Ron said around a chunk of muffin.

Neville nodded support, "You can count on us."

Harry nodded. "Of course! If I couldn't, _then_ it would be brown trousers time… Get over it Hermione, not all of us hate flying."

The girl snorted, and returned to poking the food on her plate. "I've heard you haven't even practiced with the rest of the team… Is that safe?"

"Probably not, but I'm _Harry Bloody Potter_. A quaffle isn't going to snuff me. Unless _he_ gets even weirder this time around, anyway," Harry said under his breath, before pausing. "Actually, there was that time in second year with Dobby and the bludger…"

"I changed my mind, I don't want to know."

Harry shrugged, and took a gulp of pumpkin juice. "I really need to get a supply of orange juice. Pumpkin gets so old after a while."

••••••••••

They stood in the main section of the locker room. Oliver was about to give his speech.

Wood cleared his throat for silence. "Okay, men," he said.

"And women," Angelina interjected pointedly.

"And women," Wood agreed, "this is it."

"The- big- one!" George and Fred called out in alternating stereo.

"The one we've all been waiting for," Harry finished, completely deadpan.

The team burst into laughter. "That's it Wood, you have to retire that speech. Harry knows it, and neither of us even told him," Fred said, wiping a tear away.

"Shut up, would you? Look, this is the best line up Gryffindor has had in years, probably since Charlie stepped down, if not before."

That got the Weasleys attention.

"We're all good, but none of you have seen Harry play yet… I'd be wary of giving you a big head, but damn, Potter," Oliver said.

The rest of the team looked at Harry. He shrugged, "I don't know either, I told him I don't swing that way, but he still keeps saying stuff like that."

Oliver rolled his eyes as the rest of the team howled and stamped.

"Yes yes, very funny. Go out there and stomp some snakes and we'll call it even."

Fred and George let out a whoop, and ran out the door onto the field, the rest of the team close behind.

Madam Hooch was refereeing as usual. "Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," she said, once they were all gathered around her. She seemed to be speaking particularly to captain Marcus Flint; no surprise there.

"Mount your brooms, please."

Harry slid onto his broom.

Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle, and they were off.

Harry was home.

••••••••••

Harry soared up high immediately. It was a cautious play, and one a brand new seeker, especially a first year, would tend to make. It was what Oliver wanted him to do as well, though Oliver had by now been thoroughly disabused of the idea that Harry needing any babying.

Harry cruised around, watching the plays below while keeping an eye out for the snitch. This had bothered him enough that he had studied it before coming back. The current era's golden snitch was truly random. In fact, it was one of the most random things known to wizardkind. Time turners were banned from being anywhere near professional matches. The blasted metal balls were _so_ random that they would actually change if under observation from a temporally displaced observer. There was a large scandal about eight decades ago apparently, that the then head of the unspeakables was match fixing local games to get ahold of further funding.

It had relieved Harry greatly that the games would not be dull repeats.

The boy decided it was time to earn his keep, so to speak. He suddenly swooped down, panicking the slytherin seeker, whatever his name was, into following. Harry reached out- and suddenly swerved left, a large leaf in his hand. The seeker behind him had a moment of confusion before noticing the quickly approaching slytherin chaser Adrian Pucey, who had control of the quaffle.

Adrian didn't realize what was going on until he saw his own chaser miss the end of his broom by inches. "Merlin's tits!"

" **... and I'm not sure if that was a text-book interference play by Potter, or if he thinks he's tidying up the pitch… He seems to be grabbing up anything floating around. Potter, the snitch is gold! Well, either way, Adrian definitely lost the quaffle to Alicia, who's already halfway down to the other side of the field…"**

Harry floated back up to altitude, a grin on his lips. Jordan's commentating was up to his usual quality.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, Potter?" shouted his opposite.

"Hmm?"

"Don't give me that! I know you weren't trying to catch a bloody leaf!"

"Terence… Higgs, right? Did you know there may or may not be a boson named after you?"

"... The hell? Is that it? Your big plan is to play mind games? I hope you've got more than that, because the occasional interference play and spouting nonsense isn't going to win you any points."

"No, my plan is to catch the snitch. I just got bored waiting for it. I never told you to follow me." Harry waited a moment, then added, "Is that it, do you need me to tell you when I've found the snitch? Then we can do a proper race!"

Higgs blinked at Harry a few times, and Harry watched his hands squeeze his broom tightly. "I hope you choke on the snitch, Potter." He flew off, in a grid search pattern.

"Ah, irony," Harry mumbled. "It will be lost on you, unfortunately. I didn't like it last time, and I try not to make a habit of getting balls stuck in my mouth… Oh gods, I just said that."

Harry kept his eye out for the snitch as he went into the middle altitude. Higgs was off in the stratosphere practically. It gave him a better view of the field, but at that distance you would only see the snitch from the characteristic flash of light off the sun. Harry was close enough that he might actually _see_ it.

He dodged a bludger absentmindedly. He was also close enough to take pot shots at, of course.

Then it happened. His broomstick started bucking. He let it for a few seconds, so that Snape, Dumbledore, and his friends would notice, then started chanting the counter-curse under his breath.

Between Snape, Dumbledore and himself, the broomstick was barely under his control. Now it was just up to his friends to light the fireworks…

He saw the snitch. It couldn't have been worse timing. He kept it in his peripheral vision and checked on Higgs as he dragged his protesting broom in the general direction of the snitch. Small favors, Higgs was clueless. So far…

A shout went up from the crowd, and soon everyone had noticed it, including Higgs. As he went into a dive, a massive wizarding pyrotechnic display went off under the bleachers. Harry re-assumed full control over his mighty steed as the curse failed, and charged straight towards the snitch.

Fireworks sprayed in every direction as the two boys raced towards the snitch. Play had basically stopped for the other players, as everyone watched the entire playing area fill with sparks of all colors. A Chinese dragon chased schools of fish, while a pegasus galloped in orbit around a scale model of earth, all rendered in harmless wizarding pyrotechnic.

Even Jordan was speechless at the spectacle.

Higgs and Potter pushed their way through the confusing sea of sparks, sometimes literally swatting at dense groups out of the way.

Harry grabbed hold of the snitch and came down to land. Although Higgs had gotten a large speed boost from the height advantage, he had to fight through too much of the distracting display to secure a victory. Harry felt slightly guilty, but it wasn't like he had planned for this. It could have easily been the other way around.

The fireworks finally started dying down, and the game was called.

•••••••

Of course, it wasn't as clean cut a victory as Harry had thought.

There were rules lawyers coming out of the woodwork. There were _precedents_. Some fanatics had grabbed a few rule books practically before Harry had landed. The boy had walked up to a rules argument between Madame Hooch and nearly 20 upperclassmen, all banging their hands against various passages in the rule books.

"This is clear as water! The 1874 world cup match had the after-game entertainment accidentally go off mid game. The entire display went off at once, and was so obvious that it broke the anti-muggle wards. It nearly started a muggle war, and took an international Obliviator team a month to fix. The game still continued, and the goals made in the confusion were counted. I've got a judge's remarks here," they stopped to flip to an appendix. "Well, okay, it's in Italian, but if you translate it, he says that if the snitch had been caught it would have been good."

"Yes, but that's clearly superseded by a a ruling over a hundred years later where…"

"... That's because some fool had smuggled in muggle fireworks! The players were injured!"

Harry watched in fascination. He knew that something similar had happened after the match with the dementors, but he had been rather unconscious.

"Um…"

The group looked at him, "What?" They clearly didn't think this was a matter for novices like _players_.

Harry opened his mouth. "Nevermind. I'll let you get to it, shall I?" He tossed them the snitch, hopped on his broom, and cruised back to the locker room.

••••••••••

"I think he's broken," Fred stage whispered loud enough to wake the dead.

Oliver sat on a bench in the locker room with a pained expression.

Harry had just entered, and everyone was looking at their captain.

Oliver lay back on the bench. "Why?"

Everyone looked around, unsure of who he was addressing.

"Who would have set them off? What for? The Slytherins had just as much to lose when it went off. The smart money would have been for them, since Harry's young and new… The Ravenclaws care more about arguing about rules interpretations than the the rankings, and Hufflepuff don't do that sort of thing! Uragh!"

He slapped the bench in frustration hard enough that Harry's hand hurt just from watching.

George tried to placate him. "I think we have a pretty solid case any way you cut it. We were winning by points before, and Harry caught the Snitch. Good show by the way, Harry."

The rest of the team gave him a whoop, and thumbs up. "Was that interference play planned?" Alicia asked. "It was sick!"

Katie continued, "And you made it look like you were going after that leaf? Good grief, kid!"

"You aren't making him practice separately any more, right Oliver?" Angelina asked.

Oliver grunted noncommittally, now holding his hand and wincing. "Where's Fred got to now, anyway?"

Fred ran back in. "It's official. We won!"

The girls grabbed each other in a group hug as Oliver slumped on the bench, completely slack in relief. Fred and George started slapping each other and Harry on the back for a few seconds, while looking at the girls, who were now jumping up and down and giggling.

"Wow. I see there are fringe benefits for being on the team."

The twins looked at him a moment, before quickly looking back. "You can say that again, Harry."

"Wow. I see there are-" one of the twins stomped on his foot. "Don't take our shtick, Harry." "Yes, develop your own."

"Sorry, I didn't know you had claimed all the corny jokes."

"Harry, shut up and watch the pretty girls."

"Right you are."


	10. Chapter 10

_**Chapter 10 : In Which Boredom leads to Complacency, Duels, and new Allies**_

Things were boring. Harry hated acknowledging the fact, but he was used to more excitement. It was a few days before Christmas break, and things were Dull, despite trying to teach his friends occlumency, and continued Quidditch practice.

"I should be happy. I used to beg for dull. There's a _reason_ interesting times is a curse."

Hermione rolled her eyes before returning to her assignment. "If you're that bored, go train at being a ninja-wizard-soldier again like you keep telling us you are. I'm sure the spiders would chase you around a bit if you asked."

Harry hummed, and tapped his quill on the table. "I haven't got enough level ups in this body to take on the Brood, even just running away. Not a bad idea though."

Hermione huffed.

"Oh. I never dueled Snape, did I? He promised me a match."

His friends looked up at him. "Seriously, Harry?" Neville asked.

"Yes, my godfather is hairy indeed, Neville. I'm surprised you know, I don't think the two of you have met." Everyone groaned. "Yes, a duel is exactly what I need."

"What's this?"

"Our valuable hotshot seeker entering into duels?"

Harry facepalmed as Fred and George slapped their hands on his shoulders.

"Bugger me with steel wool. I'm getting too complacent."

"Listen to the mouth on this one Fred."

"I know! It gives me hope for the next generation, it does, George."

Harry groaned, "You two ever played the obliviation game before?"

Ron cut in, "Harry."

"Ha! I think I played once, but I can't seem to remember the rules. How about you, George?"

"It's on the tip of my tongue, it is."

Harry frowned. "Darn. You have played. Fine. Come on, you can watch me duel Snape. You have the Map on you?"

The twins looked at Harry open mouthed.

"Harry, you broke them! ... Have I told you that you're my hero?" Ron asked.

The twins snapped out of it, and looked at each other for a few moments.

"How, and what, do you know about... maps?"

"Prongs was my dad. I'll let you hold on to it for now, if you'll come with me. We should talk."

Harry started walking for the door of the common room. The twins looked at each other briefly, and hurried after.

They caught up to Harry only through use of the map.

"Are we alone?" Harry asked.

"Looks like. Not much up here, Harrikens."

"Good." Harry kept walking towards the Room of Requirement, casting two Patronus spells without stopping.

"Harry, what's going on?" one of the twins asked.

"You're getting inducted into the Order of the Phoenix a few years early. Congrats."

"Oh. Brill."

Harry snorted. "Either that, or Dumbledore will play the obliviation game with you."

"Oh. Not so brilliant."

"... I can't believe I'm getting so sloppy," Harry mumbled, pacing back and forth in front of the wall.

The twins remained silent, and held in their surprise when a door they knew nothing about appeared in front of them.

They followed Harry inside, into a large room dominated by a dueling platform. There were comfortable seating arrangements around it, and a small kitchenette/ wet bar area on one side.

The twins whistled, looking around.

"This place doesn't show up on the map."

"True."

The twins waited a bit. "Are we really going to see you duel Snape?"

"If we're lucky. They should both be on their way. Help yourself to some butterbeer," he waved towards the food area.

••••••••••

A few minutes later, Dumbledore and Snape entered the room. "We received your message Harry. I see we have visitors?"

"Stop that, I told you they would be here. I screwed up, and they overheard some things they shouldn't have. And like Severus here, I felt it would be better to bring them in all the way than have them picking at threads until it all unraveled."

"And why am I needed, Potter?"

"I was hoping you'd like to duel me like you offered. I'm getting sloppy. Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum over here snuck up on me. I haven't had a challenge in years, Severus."

"You interrupted me from… grr…"

"Yes, good! Give in to the dark side, let it feed on your anger, and use it to cast some good spells at me!"

"I'll duel you if you stop butchering Star Wars quotes."

"Just as planned! Albus, give them the talk you would normally give new Phoenix members. Maybe let them in on why they can never pull one over on either of you. We'll figure out what to do with them in a bit I guess, OK?"

Dumbledore sighed, then shrugged. "Fine. So much for this year being _easy_."

Harry and Snape walked up the steps to the elevated duelling platform while Dumbledore drug the twins off to the side to have a talk with them. "Nothing above class three to start off with, and no unforgivables," Harry said, "I'm going to be rusty."

Snape snorted.

Harry frowned. "Severus, do you know how many times I've duelled Riddle? Granted, I'm always running away, but if you take me lightly I'll have you unconscious before you can say alakazam."

"Fine."

The two walked to the corners and pressed the count down buttons before getting into stance.

The bell rang.

Severus let loose a quick stunner before putting up a shield. He watched Harry sway out of the way while retaliating by conjuring a spear as long as the boy was tall. " _Kinetico_."

Snape flung himself to the side as the metal blurred through where his hip had been less than a second before. Harry had been right, he'd have to treat the duel with respect. " _Reducto, glacius, flammenwerfer!_ "

Along with the bog-standard damage spell, a massive icicle shot towards Harry, followed by an area affect flame spell.

" _Aguasi! Ice Nine! Lubricium!"_

Harry dodged the reductor automatically, his small size helping his well trained reflexes. Water sprayed out, meeting the icicle, and the tiny orb-shaped spell Snape didn't recognize hit the wave a moment later. The water all froze solid instantly, and he saw his rather powerful flame spell crash against the sudden wall of ice uselessly.

" _Elido! Perfringo! Pugnus Dius!"_

The wall of ice took the first two attacks, before exploding in a shower of shards towards Harry when Snape's third spell hit.

Harry smiled. " _Deprimo! Bunker! Rego!"_

Snape fell flat on the ground so fast that his breath was nearly knocked out of his chest. The slickness spell Harry had previously used, in conjunction with the effect of the gravity spell kept the spymaster off his feet, as he could find no purchase with which to stand. " _Arena."_

Snape rolled to the side as a matter of principle before trying to stand, only to find a chain suddenly wrapped around his neck.

More chain entered his field of view, as what he had originally thought was a spear at the beginning of the match now revealed itself to be an animated chain.

Snape sighed and signalled defeat. The chain released his neck and seemed to clink it's links in a way Severus found suspiciously like amusement. It then slithered off towards where he had last seen the boy, about to be smashed by a wall of ice-spikes… He may have overdone it. None of the spells had been against the rules technically, but… he frowned as he watched Harry break through the layer of icy debris.

"Wow, that was nice warm up! But really, a stunner and a shield? I'm insulted."

"... The bunker spell. Right." The man sighed, "I'm a teacher and you're a first year. If I had gone all out from the start and actually hurt you, who would have believed me? Dumbledore has used all the political capital he can afford on my protection. And that's already ignoring the idea I might have killed the prophesied one by accident."

"Keep telling yourself that Severus. You just couldn't believe I was as competent as I said I was."

"That's true."

Harry had been bent over, brushing ice shards off his clothing. He accidentally slapped his knee hard enough for Severus to hear, and looked up. "I didn't hit you that hard, did I?"

"I'm not a world class fighter, Potter, but no, I did not expect you to be as good as you had claimed. Most people now know only the basics of self defense. I know you went through a war, but your display was extremely competent."

Harry blinked. "Um, thanks… Dueling Bellatrix, Riddle, and yourself for a decade will make one pretty skilled. Or, you know, put you six feet under. If it makes you feel any better, I have dozens of hours of experience duelling you."

Snape grimaced. "Somehow, it doesn't, actually."

Harry grunted. "Also, before round two, let me share a bit of a secret with you. _And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives…_ Think about that for a minute. Let it percolate through your brain, and maybe let it meld with all the wild memories I've shown you. Riddle is immortal through the use of horcruxes. I'm immortal through the prophecy. Unless you count as a hand of Riddle, you probably can't kill me. And no one but I could have killed Riddle ever since the prophecy was made. At least not until I was old enough that someone could honestly be considered 'my hand'.

"Hell, depending on how literally you interpret it, every time a death eater casts the big green AK, they're giving me free time. I've been hit by plenty of stunners and bludgeoners, cutting spells and what have you, but I've never been hit by the killing spell, despite being targeted by it literally hundreds of times."

Snape frowned in thought. "That's a dangerous assumption to make, Potter."

"I don't go around testing the idea, if that's what you mean, but I'm just too damn lucky for it not to be true. I'm 36-ish subjective years old. I've been living through this crap for two decades. I'm good, but I didn't start out like that.

"So, this round, come at me with a bit of piss and vinegar, eh?"

Snape snorted, and walked back to his corner of the ring. He looked around the ring: the ice had largely disappeared, as duelling spells usually were geared for short term effects. There were strategies that called for piles of debris, but they were usually used by transfiguration specialists such as McGonagall. Dumbledore was also an occasional user of the style, but he broke most of the established rules by simply excelling at everything. The chain trick Harry had used was one of the more basic transfiguration tactics, though very competently done, and Snape made a note to watch for that.

Snape hit his button and got back into stance. Harry was waiting, and the bell chimed a few seconds later.

The pair watched each other, stock still. Snape bore into Harry's eyes, trying to see his next move.

"Going defensive after one round, are you?" Harry called, well aware of what was going on, occlumency defences up and running.

"You know how I fight. I'm taking you seriously, as you wished. I can't win against you until I know at least a little about your style."

"Gods, I always did hate fighting you. You're too damn clever. I'd suggest that your muggle lineage was giving you ideas, if the idea didn't stink of blood supremacy."

Snape snorted. "There is some evidence though, is there not? Yourself, Riddle, myself, Hermione… relying on magic circumvents evolution. I keep my toes in the muggle world Harry, there are scientists who worry that muggle medicine makes the 'gene pool' weak. The blood purity theory isn't just wrong Potter, it's _completely backwards!_ We need populations to mix, or we'll end up like the European royal lines of old. There's only so much our innate magic can repair."

Harry smirked, the two still standing in dueling positions. "Yeah, sometimes it seems like wizards traded in their common sense for magic."

Having said that, he sprung into action. Foregoing calling out any spells, Harry flung a pair of bludgeoning spells, one at Snape's left leg and the other at his right arm. As Severus shifted out of the way, Harry cast a basic dueller's mitt on his off-hand, then conjured a series of ropes that propelled themselves towards his professor.

Snape frowned at the sight of the dueller's mitt, but calmly shot small blasts of flame towards each rope, incinerating them as they reached about the halfway mark on the arena floor.

" _Labrusca Canis_." Harry verbalized for the first time in this round. A living vine shot out the end of his wand, wadding up and forming into a giant dog. A few more waves to animate it properly, and it bounded towards Severus.

The potions professor shot several of the fire blasts he had been using at it, and when they hit, turned his focus back to Harry. Not for long though, as the animated topiary merely hissed with steam and large sections withered. The dog continued forth, rather singed, but clearly dangerous.

Severus cast _sectum sempra_ at the beast, before raising a hasty shield to block a stunner and disarming charm Harry had sent, then using his trademark cutting spell once more, reducing the leafy golem to so much cole-slaw.

Harry hadn't been idle though. Hundreds of conjured marbles lay at his feet, and with a wide swing of his wand that would have looked more appropriate for a bludger bat, the marbles shot forward in a hail of glass bullets.

" _Deprimo. Ventus."_

As the marbles flew into an invisibly defined area defined by Snape's _deprimo_ spell, they plummeted, suddenly much heavier. The second spell was a classic, calling forth gale force wind that halted what little forward movement was left in the marbles, some rolling back towards Harry.

A rapid series of different spells in a rainbow of different hues flew towards the professor, who dodged four and blocked a further three with a shield before a pink ray hit him in the knee. He froze a moment in confusion, allowing an orange blobby spell and a silverish arrow to hit his face.

"What were those?"

"Colored lights. If one can't identify a spell, one normally dodges it for fear of the unknown. Magical rope-a-dope, I'll have you dancing all over, and when you're finally too tired to dodge, I'd finish you off. Meanwhile, most of the stuff you're dodging takes no more effort from me than a weak light spell."

Snape swallowed. "I-" he was cut off as he stepped out of the way of another spell he couldn't recognize, targeted straight at his shield. He heard a _crack_ from behind him and saw some small bits of flooring fly back in front of him, and felt a few pebble sized bits bounce off his back.

"But you have to dodge, or block, because they aren't all bluffs. Really nasty if you mix AK green into the mix. Dumbledore or Riddle would just conjure physical shields, but most people crumble."

Snape coughed into his hand. "Remember when you said you couldn't beat me in the ring a few months ago? I think you were thinking of future me. I yield."

Harry blinked. "What?"

"I'm an above average ameture duelist, Potter, but you are in a different league. Perhaps we dueled to a standstill regularly in the future, but I must have gotten much better after joining _him_."

Harry's mouth hung open. "... Yeah, I suppose you did, come to think of it. Sorry, I guess I forgot. You were my personal bugbear since forever. I mean, Bellatrix was a nasty fighter, but get her in a blood rage and she'd take out half the enemy for us. It wasn't even that hard to kill her in the end. You though…"

Snape frowned. He felt uncomfortable whenever his future self's traiter-dom was brought up. "But you did kill me eventually?"

"... Yeah. You were closing in on our time travel operation… Here, lower your occlumency barrier. I'll shoot over the ending of it."

Snape was taken aback. "I'm not sure that-"

"Go on. It was pretty epic. I had to use the trump card. You know you want to see an antimatter explosion."

"Not when it's used on me."

"It's only _kind of_ you."

"... Fine."

"Here it comes."

••••••

"Make fun of me some more, Snivelus!" Harry shouted as the two men clashed.

Both of them were filthy and covered with blood. Harry had finally tricked Snape into coming to this field in the middle of nowhere, where he had prepared anti-apparition and anti-portkey wards over a vast area. The two had already dueled for over five minutes, an eternity as these things went.

Harry was floating on two of his invisible 'arms', while another two held the sword of Gryffindor, and a large rock, respectively.

Snape launched a few dark cutters, hoping to lop off one of the arms. Harry flung conjured barbed wire in return, the enchanted sword being used to bat away the cutters.

Severus quickly repulsed the barbed wire, transfiguring it mid-air into a small cloud of daggers.

Harry launched himself into the air over the projectiles, coming straight towards Snape, sword first.

The man grinned. "Ballistics, Potter! _Avada Kadavra_!"

Harry whipped the rock into the path of the killing curse as he flew towards his target. " _Kineta Terra_!" The young man struck the ground wand-tip first, and seemed to hang weightless in air a moment, before the ground around him shook itself to bits.

Snape fell flat on the ground, but quickly responded, his bottom half becoming obscured in black smoke, before he flew across the field, away from Harry.

" _Carpe Retractum_. Get over here!" An intangible rope shot out of Harry's wand and snagged Snape's off-arm, jerking him to a halt before yanking him back.

" _Diffendo Serratus. Deprimo_!" Snape sliced through the rope and cast a spell that seemed to amplify the gravity around Harry. His extra arms failed under the sudden weight, and Harry quickly cast a cushioning charm underneath himself.

" _Beamos_!" A brilliant light shone out of Harry's wand, and Snape suddenly cried out in pain as his robe burst into flame. He dodged to the side and countered, " _Umbra Maxima_!" Solid looking, incredibly dark shadows poured out of his wand, eating Harry's laser and covering the area around Snape in shadow.

Harry moved immediately, exiting the area of gravity, and raising his arm in front of his eyes, " _Conjurus_!"

The next second, the shadows were ripped to shreds as the whole field was bathed in bright light, and both men were tossed back by a concussive force from the point Harry had pointed at.

The field lay silent for several seconds before Harry picked himself up. " _Accio_ wand, _Accio_ sword." Godric's sword and Snape's wand flew over, and Harry caught them. He looked at the wand for a few seconds before stuffing it into a wand sheath and using several sticking charms for good measure.

He walked over to where Severus lay, wand out and ready to start casting any moment. As he got within a dozen feet of Snape, he could see the man was red all over as if he had received the worst sunburn imaginable.

"What the _fuck_ was that Potter?" Snape asked weakly.

Harry blinked. "I conjured a minuscule fraction of a gram of antimatter."

"Dear Merlin, you are as mad as he is. Hurry up and kill me, would yo-"

" _Legilimens_."

Snape opened his mouth in a soundless scream. The two were motionless for some time. Finally, Harry thrust his sword through Snape's neck.

"Goodbye, Severus Snape. May you reap what you have sown."

Harry collapsed to his knees and wept.

••••••

Severus gasped, and found himself on his knees. He looked up to see Harry giving him a worried look. "That…"

Harry waited for him to collect his thoughts.

Snape shook his head. "That's almost another person. I really was supporting Him wasn't I?"

Harry nodded. "After Bellatrix fell, you were his left hand, Luscious his right. I think he found out you were a spy, and instead of killing you, corrupted you fully. Made you into a better tool. That's mostly conjecture, but some of the memories I got from you at the end suggest it."

Snape shuddered. "I definitely am not able to duel like that. You're going to have to teach me if you want me to give you a challenge."

Harry snorted. "Ironic. Sure, if you want. I still want to see what Albus can do. Only got to see him in action a few times."

"How were you flying the sword and rock around? Or yourself, for that matter?"

"Those were my arms. They're hard to explain, but basically, one day I decided I wanted to be telekinetic, and that magic had to let me somehow. A few years of experimentation and practice later, I had magic, invisible arms. Hopefully I'll not need them this time around. To get enough power for them we ended up using blood magic."

Snape suddenly looked as if he had bitten a lemon.

Harry shrugged. "I told you the first time we met that both of us were guilty of war crimes Severus. Riddle was summoning Daemons and shit. We were already killing all the death eaters we could, we figured we should make their bodies as useful as possible. I'm not proud of it, but it was a war of survival."

Severus let out a breath before nodding. "I understand, but perhaps you shouldn't mention this to Albus."

"No kidding?" Harry laughed. "Here's a good story, Albus once told me love was the strongest weapon we had, or some rubbish. Classic Albus, right? When we were running out of options, we decided to take him literally, and weaponize love."

Snape blinked. "What?"

"I don't know, we were grasping at straws, it made sense at the time. We were trying anything, and I thought maybe it had been some sort of cryptic clue he had left me. So our researchers are researching love spells, lust spells, legends about soul bonding, tantric rituals, et cetera. We didn't find anything particularly useful of course, but we did make a wide area lust spell that is particularly hard to counter. Unfortunately, we found this out when it went off in the middle of the research compound." Harry started giggling. "So there we are, a few hundred survivors in our biggest base, hidden by fidelius, and suddenly a massive lust spell goes off in the center. Thank goodness we kept all the children in another compound. In a matter of minutes we had an impromptu orgy in the cafeteria. It lasted for hours," Harry was laughing so hard between words he was holding his stomach, partially bent over. "Oh, in hindsight it was hilarious, but afterwards we could barely look at each other for days. At least until it happened again two weeks later!" Harry gasped for breath, and finally started to calm. "That was about a year before we gave up and decided to screw over the time-continuum."

Snape had chuckled along with the story, though it was clearly something one had to live through to see the full humor of it.

"Blimey Harry, if one of us pisses you off, you'll warn us first, right?"

The twins had climbed up onto the ring, having realized the match was over.

"I can't see it happening, but sure," Harry replied with a smile.

"So you're a time travelling bad-ass huh? Can you tell us who wins the next Quidditch Cup?"

"Nope. The golden snitch is too random. I can tell you your joke shop will be a big success. And a list of products you invented. And some stock tips for starting capitol. Don't go betting, it's a mug's game."

"Seriously, they open a joke shop?" Snape intervened.

"Whoa, watch it. Some of their inventions kept us from losing the war. Just because jokes are frivolous, doesn't mean they are trivial to make. In fact, you are looking at two potential potion masters if I can get the Voldemort business taken care of soon enough."

"Potions masters, us? You've been huffing the fumes too long Harrikens."

"To make a Canary Cream, you have to brew a spell matrix potion capable of handling a human transfiguration spell. Then you bake it into a biscuit, all the while keeping it tasty. The spell matrix potion for keeping spells in potion form is sixth year stuff. Making it into a confection while keeping it stable is graduate level. Eventually you guys were mass producing them. The earliest I know you made any was in your fifth year. You made the ton-tongue toffees in your fourth year instead of studying for your owls, though an engorgement charm is easier to incorporate."

Snape was looking thoughtful. "Show me," he tapped his forehead.

Harry blinked, then shrugged. He closed his eyes for a few moments, then the two stared into each other's eyes.

A few moments later the potions professor sighed. "I seem to be looking for talent in all the wrong places. Didn't you say Hermione brewed polyjuice in second year?"

"Yes."

"How long did it last?"

"About an hour. Isn't that how long it always lasts?"

Severus grinned. "Hah, I get to teach you something after all. It's duration is dependant on the quality of the brewing. I've heard of it lasting anywhere from 10 minutes to 12 hours. I once made some that lasted ten hours. An hour long in second year, hmm…"

"It brings joy to an old man's heart to hear we have so many talented students."

The twins startled slightly at the voice, as Harry swiveled to the headmaster. "Don't you ever get tired of... that?" Harry waved his hand at the Mugwump. "Aren't old people supposed to be grumpy?"

Dumbledore grinned. "What can I say. Perhaps it's the knowledge that I could turn all of the annoying people I meet into frogs and step on them, combined with the willpower needed to not go through with it."

"Um, you'll let us know if we're annoying you too, right sir?" a twin asked worriedly.

"You lads have a good sense of humor. Just don't disrupt the education of my other students too much."

"Are you interested in a round or two with me?" Harry asked.

"We saw your duels whilst I explained things to the twins. You don't seem particularly rusty to me. If we go at it, I think we should do it in a field. Dueling arena or not, we should not fight indoors. Rain check?"

"Accepted."

••••••••••

Harry and the twins hung out in the Room of Requirement and talked about things for a while, whilst the adults went back to their duties.

The three spoke about the map, and the joke shop that briefly opened before Voldemort made it rather pointless.

Harry tried to describe their extravagant exit from Hogwarts, but promised to get a pensive to show them, as words couldn't do it justice.

Eventually their curiosity was sated, and Harry left the twins to experiment with the Room. Nothing could _possibly_ go wrong there.


	11. Chapter 11

_**Chapter 11 : In Which Christmas is Celebrated, A Dragon arrives and Departs, and Mars is Bright.**_

Christmas was coming.

Hermione was home with her parents, causing the girl mixed feelings. She was eager to see her family again, but while she wasn't friendless in primary school, she hadn't ever had such close friends as she had made at Hogwarts.

Neville had managed to stay after writing his grandmother and suggesting he needed to study for the exams. He had explained to the others that while he loved his gran, almost all of his family were old and dull. It didn't help that Harry had reminded him of how his uncle had tried to kill him to see if he was a squib.

"Yeah, your family is James and the Giant Peach/ A Series of Unfortunate Events messed up Neville," Harry admitted.

Neville blinked, then shook his head, having learned better than to take the bait.

Ron opened his mouth, but saw Neville shake his head, and thought better of it.

"So... for Christmas, I'm getting the two of you proper wands."

"... What?"

"Wands. You both. Proper. Getting."

"Harry, we both have wands. Mine is an heirloom, at that."

"Neville, your father's wand is very nice. But it's your father's. We don't learn wandlore in the curriculum, but wands are attuned to individuals. Anyway, Ron's is also an heirloom."

They looked at Ron's wand. A bit of unicorn hair was sticking out the end, and a crack ran the length of it.

"Do I need to explain what's wrong with this picture, Ron?"

The boy frowned. "No. But my mother-"

"Is too proud for her own good sometimes. I'm afraid an accident is going to happen to your wand. I, having caused said accident, am going to pay for your new one."

"You aren't planning on breaking my father's wand, are you Harry? I won't let you."

"Good! I wasn't, but good initiative. If your matriarch has a problem with it, well, we'll burn that bridge when we get there. I have a rough plan if need be."

"How are we going to get there?"

"Well, we could sneak out to Hogsmeade, then use the floo system in a zany madcap adventure in the style I was known for in a previous timeline."

Neville sighed. "Oh joy. Here we go again."

"Or I could ask some of the adults in charge of the school, who know I'm a time traveller. That way they can corroborate our broken wand story."

Ron sighed. "That first one sounds way more wicked."

•••••••••••••

The boys arrived in the headmaster's office, since it had a secure floo connection. Ron and Neville were suitably impressed with the eclectic collection of things Dumbledore had collected over his lifetime.

"We'll be flooing to Diagon Ally and making our way to Ollivander's," Snape explained. He looked at Harry. "Why are you going, anyway?"

"Neville is about to bump into me, and I stumble into Ron, breaking his wand. So I'm paying. Neville is coming because he feels guilty, and while there we learn he's using his father's wand. I decide to buy him a new one for Christmas after Ollivander explains that everyone really ought to have their own wand."

Snape seemed to mull that over a moment before nodding. "Very well. Are you all ready?"

"I need to actually break it."

Ron looked nervous. "Er, really? Are you sure?"

Harry nodded. "Lies are much easier if they are true. We don't want it turning up later. It was going to break next year anyway."

"This feels weird." He handed the wand over anyway.

"I know. I promise it will be worth it. You're both going to be able to do spells much easier in a few hours."

Harry took the wand, and broke it over his knee.

Ron winced. "Shouldn't there be sparks or something?"

Harry shrugged. "There ought to be, but there never is." He placed the two pieces on the headmaster's desk.

Even Snape seemed somber at the sight. "Well then… if we're ready then, the floo awaits."

•••••••••••

Ollivander's door opened.

The three boys followed Snape into the store.

"With you in a moment!" the muffled cry came from somewhere in the back.

Presently, Ollivander appeared between the shelves of wands. He took one look at his visitors and said, "Oh dear."

"A wand for each of my friends please," Harry explained.

The wandmaker looked at them both. "Have you been using heirloom wands?"

"Yes sir."

He nodded. "It is always best to have the wand that wants you. You'll likely see a change in your spell casting when you get back to school. I assume your wand is in fine condition, Professor?"

"Correct. I'm merely chaperoning. Mr. Weasley had an accident with his wand."

"That's certainly what Mrs. Weasley will be hearing, anyway," Harry said. "How is my staff coming along, by the way?"

Ollivander looked around at the others, then shrugged. "I recently finished it, but for one final step. I'll need you to run some magic through it. I would have owled you if I had thought you could get here sooner than summer break. We can wrap that up after the wands if you like."

"Excellent."

"Buying staves now are you?" Severus drawled, as Ollivander began the process with Ron.

"I thought it might be a useful tool. Never used one before, but why not? Oh, Ron might find willow and unicorn a good match. Cherry and unicorn for Neville. But those are both less... certain than mine."

"Thank you, I'll take that into account."

Snape gave Harry a look. Harry shrugged.

"He said something about my aura, and asked if I could suggest a wand to save time."

"And I'd appreciate you not sharing that with everyone, much as I'm sure you'd prefer I kept mum as well," Ollivander said whilst measuring Ron's earlobe.

"Of course. Sorry."

Severus let out a brusque chuckle. "I'm glad I'm not the only one to find you an annoyance."

"You go out of your way to do so."

"Some things are worth the effort."

Harry started laughing into his hand. "Okay... that was actually funny."

"... Do you really have nothing planned for the staff?"

"Nothing in particular. It might make the tournament easier. I'll have to try it out, see how it works. Like I said, I've never used one. They're supposed to be power amplifiers, right? Like using a sledgehammer instead of a claw hammer. Hard to 'aim', but lots of impact."

"Supposedly."

Ron suddenly lit up with sparks.

"Willow and unicorn after all. Hmmph."

Ron was silent, looking at his wand in amazement.

"Can you feel it?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, it's… definitely different than the old one. It feels… right."

"Mr. Longbottom then. I have several willow and unicorn wands, let me find them."

Harry fished around in his pocket, and produced a bottle cap. "Here, it's not a thimble, but turn it into a die."

"Seriously?"

"No, I'm Harry. But I'm not joking."

Ron and Severus both groaned, then looked at each other warily.

Ron grabbed the cap. "Fine." He pointed his wand at it and focused.

… …

"Blimey!"

"Having the right tool helps."

Neville shot a dark green wave of light through the room. "This one," he said.

"Agreed."

"Nev, turn this into a thimble," Harry tossed the die over.

… …

"That was… easy."

"Yep."

"Time for your staff. One moment." Ollivander walked off into the back of the store, and the others could hear the movement of boxes.

Shortly, he returned with the staff. It was almost five feet high, about an inch and a half thick, made of a dark, almost black wood, with a copper cap at the bottom, and several copper bands up its length. It grew slowly in width as it went up, until the top, which bulged into an orb shape.

Harry let out a whistle, and grinned. "Oy, a wizard's staff has a knob on the end."

Ollivander rolled his eyes. "Made of ebony wood with a dragon-bone core, and personalized as we spoke of. I cleaned up after myself."

Harry nodded.

"I need you to focus your magic while holding it. Then I need about five more minutes for the final step."

"Right."

Harry took the staff and had to look up slightly to see the end. A light filled the room as the end glowed weakly. A few moments later it ended, and Harry took this as his cue to hand it back.

"I'll be right back. Two wands will be fourteen galleons."

"Could you wrap it in something? I'd rather not show it off immediately."

"If you don't mind butcher paper, I can manage that."

••••••••••

Having returned to Hogwarts, Harry dragged his friends to the Req. Room first thing.

A hodgepodge of odd items lay about in one section, and a target was painted on the far wall.

"You two should practice levitating some of this stuff. Maybe the severing charm as well, I'm going to try out my staff."

Ron shrugged, and turned to a stained pillow. " _Wingardium Leviosa."_ The pillow shot into the air and hovered there.

Ron gawked.

"Sorry, but you're not going to be able to slack off the next six years," Harry grinned. "You've both been working with a handicap, and it just disappeared. But by third, if not second year, things will get difficult enough that this will become marginalised."

He unwrapped his staff and looked at it. "This is so cool." He looked at the target on the wall. " _Glacius._ "

An icicle shot out, and smashed against the target.

Harry blinked. "Oh wow. _Flammenwerfer."_

A huge gout of flame spewed out towards the target.

"This is awesome! … _Adtraho."_

A bunch of the junk in the room started moving together, sticking together into a large ball.

Harry stared at the ball. It slowly formed into a humanoid shape. " _Rego._ "

The junk golem took a step forward and lifted it's arms.

" _Perfringo._ "

A spear of force shot forwards and pierced its torso.

Harry nodded, and let it collapse. "So worth it."

He turned to see his friends, wide eyed.

"See, if you study hard, you can do cool shit too."

•••••••

Harry awoke Christmas morning with a smile. He felt good. The staff, even if it never became useful in the fight against Riddle, was extremely fun.

His good mood might have made him splurge slightly on presents.

In addition to the wand, Ron was going to receive two Chudley Cannons posters. Harry had gotten Neville a pot that acted as a small greenhouse, so that he could grow almost any small plant in it, in almost any climate, indoors or out.

Hermione was going to receive a post owl with the second and third grade curriculum books.

For the headmaster, he had gone to M&S and picked up a twelve pack of socks, as well as some sunglasses and a bottle of Jamaican rum he had picked up in Miami.

For Severus, he had gotten a field kit for ingredient harvesting, as well as a large bottle of shampoo, purely to annoy him.

The twins would receive a few books on potion making, as well as a niche charms book that he thought would be up their alley.

Draco would be opening a book on ICW dueling, its history, rules, and notable figures.

He had also sent a letter introducing himself to Remus, explaining that he had heard through Sirius that Remus had been a close friend of his father's, and that perhaps they could meet over the summer break.

Harry rolled out of his bed and put on his bathrobe. The noise woke Ron, who sat up. "Morning… Wait, it's Christmas!"

"Yep. Let's see what we've got! Neville, it's Christmas. Wake up."

His pile of presents was quite different. Hagrid had still given him a flute, but Dumbledore couldn't give him the cloak twice. Instead he found a box of marshmallow peeps (the wizarding kind were even creepier than normal, as they would try to fly away before you ate them) and a small book written in a mixture of what looked like greek, latin, and what was either sanskrit, babylonian cuneiform, or possibly ancient atlantean. In other words, he was clueless.

Harry sighed. "Trust a professor to give homework."

He had gotten a box of fudge from Ron's mother, but no sweater. Harry shrugged. Perhaps Ron's letters home were different enough to effect the change.

Hermione had sent one of those folding steel pliers that also had knives and saws and both types of screwdriver unfold from the handle, along with a note that explained he was only to use it to get _out_ of trouble.

He chuckled out loud when he opened a bag from the twins and found a note, suggesting that since he was 'wise beyond his years' he might need the contents inside. After a quick glance at the stripping witch on the cover, he buried the magazine in the bottom of his chest before Ron or Neville could see.

Ron let out a moan. "You got me posters, too? I couldn't think of anything cool to get you."

Neville had gotten up by this point, and gone through his presents as well. "He got me an enchanted growing pot. I know how much these things cost too, I've had my eyes on one for a while."

Harry sighed. "That's not the point guys. You know how adults are always saying things like 'giving is better than receiving'?"

Ron nodded.

"That's… close. I'm happy, because I made my friends happy. Don't worry about it. It's not a contest. Or at least, it shouldn't be. If you're that worried, get me something for my birthday."

"Alright, Harry," Neville agreed.

Ron frowned, then looked down at his posters and nodded. He had barely gotten them on the wall when the twins ran in.

"Ron, you haven't got your sweater on."

"Go on."

"It's maroon. Again."

Harry rolled his eyes. "What color do you want it?"

"Um. Chudley Cannon Orange?"

Harry pulled out his wand. "Why'd I ask? Done. Should last a month or so."

"I know it's Christmas, but must you all make so much noise?" Percy stuck his head in and looked around. "Oh."

The twins smiled, and pounced, pulling Percy into the room.

"Get your sweater on then, we've got a Christmas feast to attend!"

"And you're not sitting with the other prefects. Christmas time is family time."

Harry chuckled, and followed everyone towards breakfast.

••••••••••

Hermione and the rest of the students arrived back a day before term started. The four of them were in a corner of the common room with the twins in tow.

"Harry! Did you have to send me so many books?"

Harry looked at her, mouth open.

"You broke him," Neville said in awe. Ron golf clapped a few times.

"I… I never thought I'd hear words like that from you," Harry explained.

"I loved the books, but… my parents were concerned that a boy gave me what looked to them to be over a couple hundred pounds worth of textbooks. My mother spent an hour or two talking to me about 'boys'."

The twins lost it, and cast a silencing charm on each other to keep the noise down.

Harry was gobsmacked. "Wow. That's… Hilarious." He started cracking up. "We're eleven."

"I'm twelve now, and twelve year olds don't give each other mountains of books for Christmas! Even if I really liked them!"

Harry was still laughing. "Sorry for making you go through the talk."

"Yes, well. I want fourth and fifth year for next Christmas. Maybe if you keep doing it, I can convince them you're just very eccentric."

"Well, I mean, I am very eccentric. Oh! I haven't shown you my staff! It's really cool!"

Hermione looked at him with an evil grin. "See, this is exactly what my mother warned me about."

"Oh wow! Hermione did a dirty joke. What have I unleashed upon this world?"

Neville spoke up, "You did point out it had a knob on the end, Harry."

"Thank you, Neville. I was quoting Pratchett," Harry sighed into his palm.

The twins were actually rolling on the floor laughing. One slapped the other, and they pointed their wand. With a gasp, he added, "It's long and hard and thick and black. And he showed it off to all of us before you. He's very proud of it."

The other twin started stamping his feet.

Harry groaned. "I deeply regret the way this conversation has moved."

"I deeply regret not having friends of my own gender."

"I keep telling you to get to know Padma."

••••••••••

Without the need to research Nicholas Flamel, there was plenty of free time. Of course some of that was eaten up by teaching his friends occlumency. Which meant Hermione was still stressed as they slowly approached end of term exams, and Harry was slightly less bored.

So when Hagrid walked into the library, and walked out with a particular book, Harry was startled to realize it was time.

"I've got to go talk to a man about a dragon."

"Yep," Ron replied.

"Sure," Neville responded.

Hermione was nose deep in a book.

Harry shrugged and made for the Headmaster's office.

••••••••••

"Ah, Harry. What brings you in today?"

"A dragon. Which means the unicorn is going to be attacked soon as well."

Dumbledore frowned, and nodded. "Right. You're certain Charlie will take it off us?"

"It worked fine before. Of course, it was his brother asking, but I imagine that your name will work pretty well."

"How long?"

"We'll need to have it gone in about a week, realistically. I know how much it means to Hagrid, but it's a dragon. Nearly made Ron's hand fall off from venom last time, and it was only a few days old."

The headmaster sighed. "Good grief. I'll arrange things. Now about the unicorn…"

Harry shrugged. "We could try and stop him? I don't think it will make much difference, but having him run around killing unicorns can't be a good thing. I could reach out to the centaurs as well."

"Will that be of importance?"

"They were helpful a few times. Firenze became a teacher for a while."

"Yes, you left that in the pensieve."

"I'd rather be friends with them."

The headmaster nodded, "Diplomacy is usually a good move. I'll see what can be done. By the way, have you started reading the book I gave you yet?"

Harry paused. "Honestly? No. I'll need three translation spells going just to make heads or tails of it. Is it important?"

"Not in the great scheme of things, I suppose. It's just some of the knowledge I used to defeat Gellert. The Old Knowledge."

Harry's mouth opened and shut "... Oh. I'll um, get on that then."

"It isn't actually a hurry. Even with the translation spells, you will find it very dense. Next term, when you think you understand what it's about, we can speak more about it."

Harry blinked. "Right. A little light reading then. Thank you."

••••••••••

Two days later found Harry down by Hagrid's shack in his invisibility cloak.

"Hagrid, you must understand. You live in a wood hut. In less than a month it will be ash, and then everyone will know. And after the chamber affair, how will this look? The ministry will not be kind," Dumbledore explained.

Hagrid must have been shaken, Harry couldn't hear the man.

"I've gotten in touch with a dragon sanctuary. Remember Charles Weasley?"

…

"Yes, he's agreed to take it. I imagine you might even be able to visit on occasion."

There was the sound of a blown nose.

"It's going to be alright, Hagrid. I'm sure Norbert will be happy there."

Harry let out a sigh, and headed back t0 the castle. This was about as happy an outcome as there could be, sadly.

••••••••••

A week passed, and at some point, Norbert was spirited away in the night with no one the wiser. Harry was trying to keep track of Mars, but somehow doubted Voldemort was that predictable. Unless the planets were more prescient than he thought.

"Harry. I need to speak to you about your last potion assignment." Snape had approached during dinner.

"Um, yes sir?"

"See me after dinner."

"Right."

They met in the dungeons.

"Hagrid found the blood. We may yet have time."

Harry nodded. "As much as I'd like to save the unicorn, I'm mostly after meeting the centaurs. I'd rather not be too competent in front of Riddle."

"Wise. I'm not certain why we should have you out there at all. Last time you had a detention, this time there is no excuse."

"I'm not sure. I just have a feeling I need to meet with the centaurs."

"A feeling. Lovely."

••••••••••

The pair entered the forest on guard, and started following the trail. Harry had donned his cloak, and brought both wands.

The trail went on for quite a ways.

The sound of hooves approached. Snape halted, and took a defensive stance.

A centaur appeared through the bushes, "Welcome. It is a dark night to be out, professor."

"Indeed. There is evil about."

The centaur nodded. "Doubtlessly. Are you here to stop it?"

Snape frowned. "If possible. Although I'm also a chaperone."

Harry removed his cloak. "Greetings. Is Mars particularly bright?"

The centaur looked at the boy. "Very bright indeed." He stomped his back leg twice.

Shortly, more hoof-beats could be heard approaching.

"Yes, Ronan? Oh." The second centaur looked to the sky. "Mars is bright."

Harry nodded. "Unless that means more than 'great conflict', I'm afraid it's lost on me."

Ronan shrugged. "This is not surprising. Humans have never learned the subtleness of astrology."

"Jupiter is bright as well. You have done something that ought not have been done. It is anathema to the grand structure."

"... Well that sucks. The grand structure should have mentioned something before hand. I might have listened."

"Unlikely. You did it with good intentions, and your cause is just. But know that the scales will likely balance themselves."

"... Well, that's both incredibly frustrating, and somewhat informative. Thank you, and give my regards to Firenze. Watch yourselves tonight."

"You are welcome. Go now, we can not destroy this evil, but we will drive it from our home."

"You know what it is?"

"Yes."

Harry grunted. "Well then. I'm in your debt."

Ronan shrugged. "Perhaps. Perhaps not."

Harry wrapped the cloak around him and headed back.

Snape nodded, and headed back as well.

The centaurs watched for a few seconds, before trotting after the bloody trail.

••••••••••

As the exited the woods, Snape asked, "Do you have any more idea what that was about than I do?"

"Unlikely. Obviously they're aware I pulled a Greater Magic out of my hat. They might even know what it was. I suppose they think fate will not take kindly to my meddling in the prophecy?"

"That's what I gathered as well."

"Glad to see we're on the same page."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12 :** _ **In Which They go Down the Hatch**_

Unfortunately, the headmaster could not cast any further light on the meeting when they reported in.

All they could do was carry on, and try to weather any storms that fate might try to hurl at them.

••••••••••

Exams were, of course, a cakewalk for Harry, and he did his best to bolster his friends' moods. "You all passed last time, and I've been helping you this time. First year exam is trivial."

"It didn't feel trivial," Ron grumbled.

"That's because you lack perspective. There's no potion for that, I'm afraid."

"You sound like Dumbledore."

"Ugh. I know. It happens as you age I think."

••••••••••

The night after the history exams, Harry gathered his team. They had all agreed to come along.

"Right. You're stopping at the wall of fire though," Harry explained. "I don't want you coming face to face to face with QuiRidell."

"Ew," Ron said making a face.

They had nearly made it out the common room when a cry came up. "Oy, you're not forgetting us, are you?"

"Yeah, you'll need the map."

"Unless you think four of you can fit under one cloak. With a staff bigger than you are."

Harry groaned. "Why don't we just invite _all_ of Gryffindor then? You two do understand you can't speak a word of this to anyone, right?"

"Of course mate. More serious than pranking."

"... Fine. Let's go."

The six students snuck down the halls, the twins leading them around any obstacles with the help of the map. Eventually they found themselves in front of the door that led to Fluffy.

It was open.

"Once more unto the breach, dear friends," Harry declared, pulling out the whistle Hagrid had given him for Christmas. He spelled it to play itself, then walked into the room.

Fluffy, the three headed dog more suited to guarding the underworld than a school, was already drifting off.

"Go to sleep, pup."

"That is a big dog."

"Merlin's tits! You can say that again."

"Come on, let's get the trap door open. The Devil's Snare will break our fall."

"Oh, that's so very reassuring."

One by one they dropped down the hatch, and bounced into the vines.

"Blimey, it's aggressive. Everyone make some fire or a light."

"But Hermione, how will we make fire without wood?"

"Shut up, that was a different timeline."

A few moments later, everyone was safely down, and ready to go through the hall ahead.

"Alright. My turn to shine," Harry said.

"Sure thing, mister seeker," Neville said as they walked into the hall filled with winged keys, with brooms lining the wall. "I'm not getting on a broom in here."

"Actually, I think I'll try something different this time."

He unstrapped the staff off of his back, and held it in front of him. " _Deprimo."_

All the keys fell to the floor, kicking up clouds of dust, before the dust too was pulled to the floor from the strong gravity spell.

"Look for a large silver one. Someone cast a light spell please."

A few orbs of light added to the rather dim lighting already there."

"Hey, I think I see it," one of the twins called. "Is this spell safe to walk into?"

"Walk very slowly, you'll feel very heavy when you enter the field."

He walked out- "Oof. No joke. I feel like there's a wardrobe on my back."

"I'll lighten it."

"Jeez, that's better… I think I got it. Is this it?"

"Rip the wings off. What? It's not like they're alive."

The children gathered around the key.

"I think it's right," Harry said. "I'm lifting the spell."

Suddenly all the other keys shot back into the air, flapping about even quicker as if to make up for lost time.

"Let's hope this one is it," Neville said.

"... It went in." *Click* "I think we're good."

"Ron, your chess game awaits."

"Right. I'll just have to be better this time."

Harry frowned. "You know, I didn't think this through when I agreed to bring six people."

Ron paused. "Oh... bollocks."

Hermione frowned, but refrained from commenting. It wasn't looking good.

They stepped into the next room and watched it light up, revealing the giant chess board.

"I… could try blowing them all up?" Harry asked more than suggested.

The black pieces turned around. Both sides drew weapons.

"Or not."

The weapons were re-sheathed, but both sides watched them.

"Harry, take the king this time."

"... No. You're the only one who can play well. Take the king. I can take care of myself."

Ron frowned, but nodded.

"The rest of you take the back row. Not the queen! I'll have to sacrifice her for sure at some point."

Ron guided the pieces about, trading pawns at first. Harry watched, but had never picked the skill up, and had no advice to give.

"I've got to trade for that knight. It'll open up the entire right side." He looked around. "Bloody hell."

He was staring at a twin.

Harry sighed. "Hey, you want to try something really cool Fred?"

"I was hoping Harry Potter would be able to tell us apart... If it means I won't end up like them, sure," George said. He was looking at several crumpled pawns.

Harry nodded, and raised his staff. "You sure, Ron?"

Ron looked all over the board frantically. "It has to be that move," he explained to George.

George looked at Harry. "Well. Let's see if you can do more than blow stuff up."

He advanced, and took the knight, which moved off to the side. A white rook shot forward and rammed into George moments after Harry shot a spell at him. He flashed bright blue for a moment, before getting launched across the room.

"Woah!"

He hit the wall and flashed blue again, less brightly. "Ouch." He pinged off the roof, then bounced a few times on the floor, glowing blue less and less each time.

George sat up and rubbed his head. "That stung."

"Are you alright?" Ron called from his position.

"I'm dizzy, but… yeah?"

"We're definitely making that into a prank item," Fred shouted.

George blinked. "We certainly are!" he said with a grin.

Harry smiled. "Just win the game Ron."

"Right. Time to win a game."

In the end, Neville and Harry both ended up shot around the room before Ron mated their king.

"Two more rooms, then everyone else turns back."

They entered the troll room. It had been blasted unconscious with some spell.

"Next," Harry said nonchalantly.

The flames leapt up as they entered Snape's logic puzzle-room.

"Which one's right, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Beats me. These are all different. There were seven last time. Now there's twelve."

"What?"

"Snape's idea of a joke, I imagine. Thankfully, I'm sure you can figure it out."

Hermione growled, "I'm not finding the humor in it."

"I can, actually," Harry admitted. "I should've gotten him a shampoo and conditioner set for Christmas."

The twins chuckled as Hermione picked up the sheet with the hints.

"Here." Harry conjured a sheet of paper and a pen.

"Thanks, this is much harder than the one in your memory."

She scratched down notes for a few minutes before dramatically circling two numbers on the page.

"The biggest one lets you head back."

"That was decent of Snape," Harry said.

"The third one lets you go forward."

"Right. _Patronus_." A stag shot out, through the roof of the cavern.

"This is where we part ways. I hope you all had an interesting, if not fun time. Dumbledore and Snape should be coming soon, so just make your way back to the brooms and you will probably meet them coming the other way. I've got to perform an exorcism."

"You don't want to know how I figured it out?" Hermione asked.

"I trust you. You can tell me when I get back if you want. Here, I can't take this in with him."

He handed her the staff.

"Careful, your mother warned you about boys trying to give you the staff."

Harry closed his eyes, and sighed. "One moment." He took the staff back and pointed it at Fred. "You have annoyed me."

"Woah, mate it was just- Pfha ha ha!" He was on the ground, a victim of the tickling hex.

He handed it back to Hermione, grabbed the third container, a small flask of foul smelling stuff, and downed it.

"Smoke me a kipper, I'll be back in time for breakfast."

He walked through the flames.

Fred's eyes trailed after him. "What a- ha HA ha- plonker."

Ron nodded. "Sometimes, yes."

George shrugged. "You earned it, bro."

••••••••••

Harry opened the final door, and there was the mirror, and Quirrell.

"Blasted artifact, what is the trick?"

"You?" Harry asked, in what he hoped wasn't too melodramatic a manner. He was 11 though, so probably not.

His DADA professor whirled around. "Ah. I was wondering if you would turn up… Yes, me."

"But, … not Snape?"

"Severus? Ah yes, what a useful foil he is. All in black, swooping around like a vampire. And poor stuttering Quirrell, well, who would ever think I was up to no good?"

Harry had to admit, it was a decent plan. "Then he wasn't trying to kill me?"

Quirrell laughed again. "No, he tried desperately to keep you alive. Amusingly sad, seeing as you'll be dying tonight."

He waved his wand, and Harry was paralyzed.

"But plenty of time for that later, after I've finally gotten the stone out of this wretched mirror. Yes, there it is. Again. Now what?"

"Use the boy."

"Ah, that might work. Thank you master."

He levitated Harry in front of the mirror, and released his paralysis spell. "What do you see?"

What _would_ he see, actually, Harry wondered. Certainly not finding the stone, especially since Dumbledore had sent it back to Flamel.

He looked into it. It was the compound that they were staying in before he came back in time. Everyone was celebrating the death of Voldemort, and it looked to be one hell of a party. He blinked; someone must have let off another lust spell.

"You can't always get what you want," he muttered.

"What was that Potter? Speak up!"

"I see myself winning the quidditch cup, and Gryffindor have the house cup as well! And there I am as a prefect-"

"Useless!" Quirrell shoved him aside.

"Let me talk to him."

"Master, your strength…"

"Is sufficient for this."

"Yes, lord."

Quirrell unwrapped his turban to reveal the face of Voldemort. Harry schooled his face, finally forcing himself to show terror instead of rage.

"Harry Potter." The voice was still quiet, but louder now that it wasn't wrapped in cloth. "I wonder why I can't see your mind. Who taught you occlumency?"

"Occulmunchy? What?"

"The defence of the mind. Don't play coy. Was it your headmaster?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'll be sure to ask him about it when I escape from you two though."

"You won't be going anywhere. Check his pockets, Dumbledore will have made the mirror give it those with good intentions, or something like that."

Quirrell lunged towards Harry.

"Woah, stranger danger! Stranger danger!"

They both shouted in pain as the man grabbed Harry.

"Forget it, kill him! Kill him now!"

Harry leapt onto Quirrell, wrapping both arms around his head. The pain was intense, but not quite as bad as the cruciatus, and Harry hung on as if his life depended upon it, all three of them screaming until Harry's throat felt raw. His thumb found one of Quirrell's eyes, and he plunged it in.

The screaming doubled for a moment, before cutting out.

Harry sucked in air. The pain had stopped, though it lingered in his muscles. Riddle's spirit had flown the coop, and Quirrell was dead.

He managed a weak grin. "But if you try sometimes, you might just find, you get what you need."

He fainted.

••••••••

Harry awoke in the infirmary.

"Wow. Same bed and everything. I need to get the ceiling painted somehow. That paint chip always bugged me."

"I would say that that's disconcerting, but I suppose in your case it's to be expected."

Harry looked over to find Dumbledore sitting by the bed, inserting a bookmark into a large tome.

"Oh, hey there. … Congratulations, you get to skip a long uncomfortable explanation and trying to convince me I didn't kill a man. I hope everyone is alive and well, nothing went pear shaped?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, it appears everything went more or less according to plan. How did things on your end go? Quirrell immediately destroyed my recording and bugging spells upon entering the room."

Harry shrugged. "I think I pulled off weak, pathetic, and lucky. What he expects. What he _wants_."

There was a pause, before Harry continued. "Now that it's done with, I've got to ask. What game were you playing?"

Dumbledore tilted his head. "Excuse me?"

"Don't play ineffable or senile with me. You set up a series of 'barriers' that first years could get through. In order to stop Riddle. Does not compute. I mean, I didn't give it any thought as an 11 year old last time, but come on."

Dumbledore looked slightly sheepish. "You know that the real protection was the mirror. The truth is that the more precocious Hogwarts students need extracurricular activities, or else they get into trouble, and start, metaphorically speaking, making plans to blow up Atlantis, instead of revising, or learning bra unlatching charms. The Forbidden Forest is kind of a relief valve for that in general, but students get bored with it if that's all there is for seven years."

Harry blinked. "I did tell you about the giant colony of man eating spiders in the middle of the forest, right?"

The headmaster sighed. "I didn't know about that until you told me. And in my defense, although students get injured frequently, we haven't had a death or permanent life altering injury in over two decades. You have a slightly skewed point of reference."

"Hmm. I suppose. So did anyone else actually get to the mirror?"

The headmaster smiled. "Oh, a handful of seventh years you probably aren't that familiar with.. Peregrine Derrick-"

"The Slytherin beater? Angelina used to say he had to be led onto the pitch so he wouldn't get lost."

Dumbledore let out a snort. "If I was to believe a quarter of the rumors I overheard about you from just the memories you gave me, I would think that you-"

"Point made!" Harry interrupted again. "Pre game banter, I got it… … All things considered, first year went pretty well I think."

Dumbledore considered this. "I suppose. You said next year will be pretty quiet, right?"

"Should be. I'll just take the diary from Ginny, and we'll have the first Horcrux to boot. Smooth sailing after that until fourth year. Sirius can't escape, he's been freed."

Albus nodded. "Sounds like plenty of time to spend finding the remaining Horcruxes. You'll have my full support."

"Great. What time is it?"

"Almost lunch. You've been out fourteen hours or so."

"Can I go, or will Madame Pomfrey…?"

"Go eat."

Harry nodded, and went to the great hall.

••••••••••

The last few days before the final feast were restful. Harry did have to play another quidditch match against the Ravenclaws, but he managed to end the game pretty quickly. The final feast was all decked out in Gryffindor colors, seeing as they had never lost any points trying to smuggle a dragon.

Everyone had passed their exams of course, and even Hermione was happy with her scores.

"You will come over to the Burrow this summer, won't you?" Ron asked around a drumstick.

"Wild equines and house elves couldn't stop me."

"I suppose you'll be stuck with your dreadful relatives?" Hermione asked.

Harry blinked, he hadn't told them about that. Maybe it would be best to gloss over killing his uncle. "Briefly, but then I'm going to spend some time in America with my godfather."

"Really? Where abouts?"

"I'm thinking magical Vegas, maybe."

••••••••••

Here Endeth Book One

 **Book Two Coming... Eventually?**


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